Another Year in the Life of Friends
by Joyful Noise 44
Summary: A RENT sequel. Takes place in the year after Angel's death. A new year brings changes for our favorite Bohemians. Can so many unique individuals stay friends now that Angel is gone? Chapter 17 is now up. Reviews are, as always, greatly appreciated!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

"Thanks for bringing me here," Mimi smiled weakly.

Roger Davis smiled back reassuringly, and then breathed a sigh of relief. Mimi looked better. He was afraid he'd lost her.

"I miss Angel," Mimi commented.

"Me, too." Roger gently kissed the top of her head and patted her shoulder. She smelled amazing. How could she smell that way after living on the street and then the hospital? "Are you warm enough?" Roger asked, removing his leather jacket and placing it onto Mimi's tiny frame.

"I'm fine," Mimi smiled with her "Cheshire cat" grin. "Thanks."

The couple remained in silence for several minutes. Mimi finally spoke: "I'm ready to go." She quietly rose from the park bench, on which she'd been seated, and placed the single red rose she'd been holding onto Angel's grave. "Happy New Year, honey." Mimi blew a kiss toward the headstone; then waved in its direction.

Roger carefully put his arm around her shoulders and kissed her forehead. They left the cemetery in silence, both wondering what the New Year would hold for them.

* * *

Mark turned off the projector when he heard footsteps in the loft. "Hey!" he exclaimed when he realized it was Roger and Mimi. "You're finally back!" He kissed Mimi's cheek then hugged her cautiously. She looked fragile enough to break if he squeezed too hard.

"They dismissed her this morning, but she wanted to stop by the cemetery before coming home," Roger informed his friend. He helped Mimi remove the leather jacket from her shoulders. "Here, come lie down." Roger escorted Mimi to the couch and covered her with a threadbare cotton blanket once she had curled into the fetal position.

Mark's eyes welled with tears as he watched his roommate. Roger had spent every waking moment at the hospital; ensuring that Mimi was comfortable, serving her meals, and playing his guitar for her. Mark couldn't have been more proud of his friend. Mark scrounged around the makeshift kitchen until he found two ancient-looking tea bags. He warmed some water on the hot plate, and then dropped in the tea bags into two chipped coffee mugs. Roger should have the mug that still had a handle. He poured the water into the mugs and handed the "good" cup to his friend.

"Thanks," Roger said, blowing steam from the top of his cup.

"You looked like you could use something."

"Yeah." Roger sipped his tea and watched Mimi sleep. "How long do you think she has?"

Mark was stunned at the question. "Um…I – I don't know." He stared blankly into his coffee mug, hoping desperately that Roger would change the subject.

"I just don't want to…" Roger sniffed a tear away. "I don't want to lose her, man."

"I know you don't," Mark consoled him. "But you can't use the time that's left for worrying. I mean we've learned firsthand that life is so short…"

"Yeah." Roger's eyes never left Mimi's pale face. She was so beautiful.

"So, uh, how was the cemetery?" Mark rolled his eyes and sighed at his own stupidity. Why was he always putting his foot in his mouth? "Sorry."

Roger smirked a little. He allowed his gaze to drift from the sleeping Mimi long enough to smile at his friend. His best friend. "Mimi wanted to say hi to Angel. I uh, hadn't been there since…" his voice trailed off. "It was okay." Roger turned his attention to the empty coffee mug for a moment, then back to Mimi.

"I've been a couple times. I thought…I thought that, uh, I might get some inspiration from visiting, but I…I haven't felt much like a filmmaker lately." Mark sighed again. Roger didn't want to hear about his problems. Roger had problems of his own. "Listen, if you want to go out for a while or rest or shower or something, I'll sit with…"

"No. Thanks," Roger interjected quickly. "I'm fine." Realizing his tone had sounded a bit abrasive, Roger looked at his friend and softly repeated: "I'm fine."

* * *

"Maureen, could you hurry up in the bathroom? We're going to be late!" Joanne Jefferson stormed down the hall, taking her coat from the hall tree as she went.

"I just can't go to dinner with your parents when I'm looking like this!" Maureen emerged from the bathroom hastily, her eyebrows furrowed in a pout.

Joanne almost laughed out loud when she saw Maureen.

"But you look wonderful! Besides, you promised. Now get your coat."

Maureen whimpered and stared down at the drab ensemble she was wearing. Never again would she allow Joanne Jefferson to choose her outfit. Nobody would notice her amazing body! "But Pookie," she whined, "nobody will even see _me_ in this outfit!"

"That's exactly the point," Joanne chuckled. "What's wrong with basic black?"

"Nothing if it _fits_," Maureen pouted. She caught a glimpse of herself in the conservative black pantsuit in the mirror over the living room sofa. She frowned at the reflection.

"Honey bear, for you, fitting equals skin-tight." Joanne took Maureen's wrist and pulled her out of the apartment, locking the door behind them. "Let's go."

* * *

Paul Jefferson checked his watch for the thousandth time. It wasn't like Joanne to be late. He took his cellular phone from the inside pocket of his coat and dialed Joanne's mobile.

"Kitten, it's Dad. Just making sure you _are_ still coming…yeah, Mummy and I have been here for about 20 minutes and…okay, Kitten. See you soon, then."

"Is she coming?" Darlene Jefferson asked.

"Yes. And she's bringing Maureen with her." Mr. Jefferson's eyes grew wide in frustration. It was bad enough that his daughter chose to be a lesbian…did she have to choose that Maureen person as a mate?

"I think we'll go ahead and have some wine," Mrs. Jefferson said, catching the waiter by the sleeve as he passed the table. "We could be in for an interesting night."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

_Eggs. I smell eggs!_

Mimi poked her head from beneath the covers and peered around the loft. How long had she been asleep? Mark was nowhere to be seen, Roger was slumped forward in a hard wooden chair with his arms crossed, snoring lightly. So where was that delicious odor coming from?

"Hola, Senorita!" The deep voice came from the fire escape outside the cracked window of the loft.

"Collins!" Mimi tried to sit up too quickly and immediately felt dizzy. She leaned on the arm of the couch to steady herself. "What are you doing outside?"

"Being quiet 'til you woke up. Thought we could share some _huevos rancheros_. Feel up to it?" Collins opened the loft window fully and climbed in. He greeted Mimi with a warm hug and helped her off the sofa.

"Of course," Mimi stretched a bit and went to the sink for a sip of water. "Here, help me up." Collins lifted her onto the cold metal table. He filled Roger's dirty mug with tap water from the faucet and handed it to her. How Mimi had missed Collins! She smiled widely as he placed a full plate onto the table beside her.

"Go ahead." Collins took the mug from Mimi and watched as she tasted his concoction.

"Mmmmmm!" Mimi closed her eyes and savored the taste. She hadn't had anything like this in too long. "This is delicious. Where'd you learn to make _huevos rancheros_ like this?" Mimi asked, fully knowing the answer before Collins could respond.

"Angel loved 'em, too."

"We went by the cemetery on the way home today."

"Yeah, I heard. Listen, Mimi, I'm sorry I couldn't visit you in the hospital. I tried, really. It just made me think too much of…"

"It's okay," Mimi interrupted. "I thought of her too."

* * *

"…hadn't planned on doing anymore protests considering my performance space had been cleared for the installation of the studio. But after it was on TV and all I just decided that this was way too important a cause to just put on a shelf somewhere, ya know? So I asked my Pookie for her help, and of course she couldn't resist _this_, right honey? Anyway…" 

Joanne squirmed uncomfortably in her seat as she watched her father nervously sip his wine and gaze into space. He never made eye contact with anyone when he was anxious or annoyed. Now, Joanne thought, he seemed to be both. Why couldn't Maureen stop talking about herself for two minutes -- or at least long enough for Joanne's folks to make their apologies and excuse themselves from the table?

"Um, honey?"

"…and Joanne didn't think that we should, but I told her…"

"Honey?"

"…need our help. I mean, I may not be a lawyer but…"

"Maureen!" Joanne kicked her partner hard under the table, causing Maureen to let out a surprised screech.

"You bitch!" Maureen snapped. She aggressively slid her chair back from the table and stood with her hands on her hips, as if awaiting an apology. Mrs. Jefferson gasped, covering her gaping mouth with both hands.

Joanne worried that her mother would pass out. She stood and placed her trembling hands on Maureen's shoulders, trying not to cause a scene at the swankiest restaurant in town. But there was no comforting Maureen Johnson. She slung Joanne's hands from her shoulders and turned to leave.

"Maureen!" Joanne started to trail the drama queen, and then remembered her parents. Her mother, obviously still in shock from Maureen's outburst, was frozen with her wide eyes staring blankly and her hands covering her mouth. Her father held his head between his thumb and index finger, as if attempting to soothe a headache and hide his face all at once. Joanne stood frozen for a second, torn between the woman she loved and the parents she wanted so badly to impress. Before she could apologize, Maureen stormed noisily back into the room.

"Mr. and Mrs. Jefferson," Maureen announced dramatically, "forgive me if I'm not myself tonight. Your precious 'Kitten' forced me to dress this way in order to impress you."

Joanne braced herself, for she knew what was coming next.

"But I believe that dressing like somebody I'm not is the same thing as selling out. Therefore…" Maureen yanked the butterfly clip from her hair, allowing her wild, curly locks to flow over her shoulders. She ripped off the black suit jacket she was wearing, revealing only a lacy black bra underneath. The restaurant patrons and staff gasped in amazement as Maureen held her arms up in victory, did a twirl, and exited into the cold winter night.

Joanne closed her eyes and sighed loudly, wishing this was all a bad dream. This was so typical…for Maureen, anyway. Dropping three twenty dollar bills on the table, Joanne quietly commented, "Goodbye Mother. Dad. Thank you for a wonderful evening."

Joanne tried not to cry as she collected Maureen's jacket and turned to leave. Before she could exit, Joanne heard her mother's voice meekly call over the crowd.

"Uh, waiter? There appears to be a button in my wine."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Mark shouldered his bike and made his way to the top of the stairs. He was tired. Very tired. His sleep had been sporadic and restless ever since Angel's death. When he _did_ sleep, Mark dreamed of spinning film reels and never ending rolls of blank film. His _Proof Positive_ documentary was finished, but now what? He wasn't sure what his next move should be. Though the film was highly acclaimed by his friends, Mark still felt unsure of himself…was this film good enough to share with anyone besides his friends?

As he entered the loft, Mark heard a sound which he had almost forgotten existed. He peered curiously around the corner and saw Roger sitting on their hand-me-down sofa, with Mimi snuggled next to him, her head on his chest. Collins' large frame rested in the wooden chair close by. Mark listened again and realized they were…_laughing_.

Before anyone could even acknowledge his presence, Mark took the messenger's bag from his shoulder and took out his beloved camera. He peered through the lens at the friends as they reminisced, told stories and laughed. It was almost, he thought, like the old days.

The old days? Why it was only a year ago that they were all together on New Year's Eve. He too smiled, despite himself, as he recalled the "break-in" party that had taken place that night. It was still difficult to believe all that had occurred since then.

"And wasn't Angel wearing a…a shower curtain that night?" Roger questioned, smiling at Collins.

Collins chuckled deeply. "Man, that girl was crazy…" his voice drifted off as he pulled his yellow-tinted glasses from his forehead onto his eyes.

"And wonderful," Mimi said as she pulled the sleeves of her oversized sweater over her bony hands.

The room instantly became quiet. Mark shut off the camera, glad he had captured the moment on film. Albeit brief, it had proven that laughter _did_ still exist in Bohemia.

* * *

For once in her life, Maureen tried to ignore the stares she received as she stormed, half-naked, through the streets of New York. She wished that she had remembered to pick up that hideous jacket. Even if she wasn't stylish, at least she could have been warm. Hot tears streamed down her face. Why was Joanne like this? Maureen wiped her face and crossed her arms over her chest. She had to get home; she was freezing.

_Wait. Home? I can't go home. I live with Joanne!_ Maureen stopped in her tracks. Where was she supposed to go on New Year's Eve?

"Mark!" Maureen announced, not really intending to speak out loud. _That's it,_ she thought. _I'll stay with Mark. That'll piss the princess off big time!_

* * *

The silence was broken by a loud banging on the loft door. The four friends practically jumped out of their skin at the noise.

"Yeah, who is it?" Mark questioned, praying it wasn't their landlord, Benny.

"Mark, it's me!" Maureen shouted, trying to sound upbeat. "Come on, baby, let me in!"

Mark opened the door to see Maureen shivering in black heels, black dress pants, and…a top that closely resembled a bra. Her dark, curly hair was windblown and her black mascara had been streaked down her face.

"Oh my gosh, Maureen!" Mark pulled Maureen into the loft and put his own plaid jacket over her shoulders. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, I'm fine. Joanne and I had a fight," Maureen confessed, covering herself with the jacket. "I just couldn't go home, that's all."

Collins grinned at Roger. "And you thought it was funny that Angel wore a shower curtain." He motioned toward Maureen, who had seated herself beside Mimi on the couch. Everyone chuckled -- except Maureen.

"Look, could somebody just get me a shirt?" Maureen dramatically slung her black curls over her shoulder and sighed. Mark obediently retrieved a button down flannel shirt from the nearby laundry basket and tossed it to Maureen. She unashamedly tore off the jacket and put on the shirt. "So can I stay here tonight?" Maureen asked as she fiddled with the buttons.

"You can sleep in my bed," Roger offered. "I'm going to sit with Mimi tonight."

"No, you don't have to do that," Mimi replied, looking into Roger's eyes. "I'll be fine, really. You should sleep in your own bed tonight. God knows you deserve it."

"I insist," Roger smiled back. Mimi gave in easily and nuzzled even closer to Roger's chest.

The phone rang, startling everyone again. Mark shook his head, annoyed. Why was he always so on edge? "Hello?" he said, holding the receiver to his ear.

"Mark, Joanne." A firm voice came from the other end.

"Oh, hi Joanne." Mark glanced over at Maureen, who pretended not to care.

"Is Maureen at your place?"

"Um…" Mark peered at Maureen, who was now doing the "cut" motion across her neck and shaking her head frantically. "Yeah, she's here, Joanne. Hold on." Mark held the receiver out to Maureen, who flipped him off and sat motionless on the sofa. "Joanne, I think she's…"

"Never mind," the now frustrated voice responded. "I'm on my way."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Joanne stormed up the stairs to the loft, cursing under her breath as she went. How could Maureen act like such an adolescent? And in front of her parents! _Well, _Joanne thought to herself as she breathlessly reached the top of the steps, _I refuse to be so gullible this time. Maureen is going to apologize to me and then apologize to Mother and Dad. I'm going to stand firm about this!_ She banged on the heavy metal door which was soon answered by Mark, who appeared almost frightened at Joanne's arrival.

"H-Hi, Joanne. Come on in."

Joanne pranced calmly into the loft, vowing not to place her anger on display in front of her friends. The "click-click" of her heels on the concrete floor resounded loudly in her ears. She temporarily forgot her frustration when she spotted Mimi curled up on the couch. "Hi, honey!" Joanne crossed to the sofa and embraced Mimi warmly. "You look fantastic!"

"Liar," Mimi smiled, brushing a chestnut strand of hair from her face. "But I do _feel_ better."

"Good." Joanne's eyes searched the room frantically for Maureen. "Where's…"

"She's taking a shower," Mark replied quickly.

"Said she needed to cool down before she spoke to you," Collins informed her.

"Well I don't know what Maureen told you, but I…"

"Joanne, she said you had a fight, that's all." Mark crossed the room and sat beside Mimi on the couch.

"It was terrible." Joanne's shoulders sagged and her eyes widened in sadness. "My parents were furious."

"What happened?" Mimi asked, almost in a whisper.

"My parents asked to take me out to dinner. They're in town for New Year's and wanted to treat me. I just wanted so badly for them to like Maureen…to finally accept that we're a couple…Anyway, I invited Maureen. I persuaded her to wear that stupid suit in an attempt to seem normal."

Collins snickered, "There ain't no such thing as 'normal' when it comes to Maureen."

Joanne forbearingly cracked a smile. "Anyway, she went on and on about her performing and her protests…and she called me 'Pookie' at least eight times," Joanne looked over at Mark, who was nodding knowingly. "So I kind of kicked her, a little, under the table. All of the sudden she stands up, screams profanities at me, and takes off all her clothes!"

The entire group burst into loud torrents of laughter, their faces reddening.

"No, it's – it's not funny!" Joanne tried to stifle her own giggles. "Seriously, I've never been so embarrassed in my life!"

"Look at it this way, Joanne," Roger chuckled, "at least she kept her pants on!"

"Yeah, if she hadn't, there wouldn't be one dissatisfied customer in all of New York, if you know what I mean!" Mark exclaimed, removing his glasses and wiping his eyes.

Joanne hated hearing accusations about Maureen's promiscuity – even if they _were_ true. Before she could open her mouth to defend Maureen, the drama queen suddenly burst out of the bathroom wearing a towel on her head like a turban. She was in a stained v-neck undershirt and a pair of men's boxers.

"How dare you?"

"What?" Joanne was baffled.

"How could you embarrass me in front of my friends?" Maureen stared angrily into Joanne's face.

"Well how could _you_ embarrass _me_ in front of my parents? You called me a 'bitch' in front of my parents!" Joanne raged.

"You kicked me!"

"You wouldn't shut up!"

"Ugh!" Maureen huffed dramatically.

"Maureen, my parents don't care about your protests and performance spaces!"

"I was just trying to make conversation! I wanted to let the real me shine through, and I certainly couldn't do it by showing up in that ridiculous suit!"

"Well if the suit upset you so much then why didn't you just tell me?!"

"I wanted you to be…" Maureen's voice softened, her gaze shifted to the floor. "I wanted you to be proud of me."

Joanne reached out to touch Maureen's beautiful face, and then recoiled quickly. It was an act. Everything with Maureen was an act. Maureen wanted _her_ to apologize…to take the blame for this whole ugly affair. She refused to do it. She refused to let Maureen win again. "No," Joanne said as she backed toward the loft door. "You are not going to get away with this one. You are _not_ going to pull the wool over my eyes this time, Maureen."

"Huh?" Maureen peered into her lover's large brown eyes.

"No. No. I won't let it happen again." Joanne excused herself from the loft and hurried down the stairs. "It's happened too many times," she whispered. "I won't let her do it to me again." Joanne tried to stifle the tears that sprung into her eyes. She hustled back to her own apartment, hoping desperately to hear Maureen's voice behind her.

* * *

"You're not gonna go after her?" Mark certainly didn't want to room with Maureen again.

"No." Maureen heaved a sigh and padded towards Roger's tiny bedroom. "Goodnight, everybody."

"Wonder if she realizes it's only 8:30?" Collins remarked. "Is it just me or is this the longest New Year's Eve ever?"

"Yeah," Mark replied. He rose from the sofa and walked into the 'kitchen.' He'd just realized that he hadn't eaten since the morning. He poured some Cap'n Crunch cereal into a bowl, then, after learning they had no milk, tossed several dry pieces into his mouth. The loft was silent for a long time, well, except for Mark's loud crunching.

"Hey -- you still got that footage from New Year's last year?" Collins looked over his shoulder at Mark.

"Of course." Mark smiled. It would be good to relive some memories. He hurried to his bedroom and took the projector off the stack of books in the floor. After setting it up in the common area, Mark raced back into his room, searching through shoeboxes until he found the correct reel. "Here it is!" he called out in victory.

All of Mark's commotion brought Maureen from her solitude. She curled up on the couch next to Mimi, partially excited and partially afraid to see what was on the film.

Mark began the reel and everyone gasped at the first shot of Angel, clutching Collins' arm in a blond wig and shower curtain dress. Mark flipped off the lights (mainly to hide his own tears) and the friends sat in silence, recalling the special memories of the past year. They remained that way, occasionally laughing and sometimes crying, until the wee hours of the morning.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Roger gazed contentedly at the slender figure lying beside him. He had never dreamed he could love anyone so much. Despite all of their disagreements, problems, and frightening moments; he had never once stopped loving Mimi. She had taught him how to smile again, how to feel again, how to love again…how to live again. As she slept, Roger vowed that he would take care of her the same way she had cared for him.

"Good morning." Mimi's sleepy brown eyes blinked sleepily as she smiled at him.

"Good morning." Roger leaned over and kissed her cheek gently. "How are you feeling?"

"Great." Mimi drew Roger's face toward hers and kissed him deeply. "How are you?"

"Wow…I'm uh, great too." He snuggled up to her and put his strong arm around her tiny waist, kissing her bare shoulder, neck and ear.

Mimi giggled, then sighed. "It's been a long time since we've done this."

"Mmm-hmm. Too long." Roger leaned in for a second kiss; this time less gentle, more passionate. He'd missed her kisses, her laughter, her sighs of satisfaction. Most of all, he'd missed her—

"GOOD MORNING!" The bedroom door swung open to reveal Maureen holding a half-empty coffee pot.

"Shit! Maureen!" Roger sat up, not even pretending to be happy to see her. "How did you get in here?"

"Fire escape," Maureen said, unabashed. "You know you shouldn't leave your windows unlocked in Alphabet City, Mimi. You never know who could be coming in. Coffee?"

Mimi giggled, but Roger wasn't amused. "What are you doing up so early?"

"I lived with a lawyer. Do you know what time Joanne gets up in the morning? Five o'clock…a.m….in the morning. Anyway, Collins made some coffee and I thought I'd bring it down, you know, say good morning."

"Good morning. Now go away." Roger flopped back onto the mattress, hoping desperately that she would leave.

Mimi was more hospitable. "Come on, I think I have some coffee mugs in here somewhere." She feebly led Maureen out of the bedroom. Roger sighed loudly. Maureen obviously didn't realize how long it had been since he'd gotten laid.

* * *

Collins stared blankly at the newspaper spread out on the table before him. He supposed he should find a job. Maybe go back into the classroom or repair computers or something. He scratched his head and took the last gulp of his coffee. If he was going to interview, he thought, he would have to wear a suit…did he even own a suit? He had to do something to keep his mind off of losing Angel. God, how would he ever survive without her?

The sudden ring of the phone jarred him. Collins let the machine pick up:

"Speeeeeeeeeeak."

"Uh, yes, this call is for a Mr. Collins. My name is Michael Berger; I'm the landlord of an apartment building here in the area. I was told that I should contact you about retrieving some personal effects of mister…miss…er, uh, Angel's. I'm sorry it's taken so long for me to reach you. A, uh, secretary at NYU provided me with this number, so I thought I'd give it a try. If you're interested in picking up the items, you can call me at…"

Collins scrawled down the number in his unintelligible handwriting, then rubbed his forehead. He was so stupid! He hadn't even thought of asking Angel's landlord for her personal things. All he'd remembered to hold onto was his leather coat…the first gift Angel ever gave him. Collins breathed deeply, grateful to have a repreive from the job hunting, grateful to have the opportunity to feel close to Angel again. _Maybe now_, Collins thought, _Angel won't feel so far away._

He picked up the receiver and dialed the number he'd taken down.

* * *

Mark was awakened by a violent shaking. He peered, confused, at the fuzzy, shadowy figure standing above his bed. He couldn't see anything without his glasses.

"Mark, you awake, man?" Collins deep but friendly voice prodded.

"Hmph, yeah." Mark felt the floor beside his bed with one hand.

"Oh, here's your glasses." Collins placed the glasses into the groping hand. "Come on, man, I need you to help me with something."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

"I'm sorry to call you on the holiday," the short, stocky, balding landlord apologized. "I got new tenants coming in after the New Year…needed the apartment cleaned out."

"It's no problem," Collins replied. "I'm sorry I didn't come by sooner. I just completely…"

"Don't worry about it." The landlord stared full into Collins' eyes. "I know what it feels like to lose somebody." With that, he unlocked the door to the apartment. "Now, uh, if you'll excuse me, I got a few more phone calls to make. You just, ah, take your time, all right?"

Collins thanked the man with a hearty handshake. He peered into the bare apartment and braced himself.

"Collins, are you sure you're ready for this?"

Mark. He'd almost forgotten that Mark was with him. Collins looked over his shoulder at his friend, grateful to have him there. "Yeah, I think so."

Breathing a heavy sigh, Collins stepped through the doorway. Almost everything had been cleaned out already: Angel's plant which had died during their final hospital stay, the homemade curtains, and the empty pickle tub that served as both a drum and a stool. All that remained had been packed into two large cardboard boxes which sat on the floor.

"Let me get one of those…" Mark lunged toward one of the boxes, trying to make this as quick and painless as possible.

"No." Collins stared hard at the boxes. "I wanna go through 'em here."

Mark made a weak excuse and went into the bathroom. Collins lifted the lid on the first box and lovingly removed its contents: snapshots of he and Angel together, taken in a photo booth in some random downtown shop; a pamphlet advertising Life Support, detailing its location and phone number; copious notes scrawled in Collins' own hand, "You are MY Angel," "I love you," "Thank you," "Feel better soon…" Collins couldn't believe she had saved all this stuff: a travel brochure from Santa Fe, New Mexico, which Collins had brought in as a joke; numerous half-burned candles; bottles of sparkly fingernail polish, some never opened; a Walkman with dead batteries; doctor appointment reminders; and at the very bottom of the box, a pair of well-worn drumsticks.

Collins wiped away a tear and sniffled. One more box to go.

* * *

Mark washed his hands…again. If he'd known he was going to be stuck in the bathroom, he would've at least brought a magazine or something. Mark listened through the bathroom door, hoping that Collins was okay. He hadn't heard a sound in several minutes. 

Suddenly Mark heard Collins gasp, and then erupt into loud sobs. He rushed from the bathroom to console his friend, finding Collins in a heap on the floor clutching…was that a…

"Collins, are you okay?"

"I—I don't know—what person in their right mind would—would wear a –a damned shower curtain!"

Mark embraced his hysterical friend. The two looked at each other for a moment, then down at the brightly patterned shower curtain, and back at one another. Soon they were laughing through their tears.

* * *

"Where the hell have you been?" Maureen opened the heavy metal door to the loft wide so that Collins and Mark could enter with the bulky cardboard boxes. "I've been alone for hours."

"Maureen…" Mark glanced at her anxiously, and then nodded in Collins' direction. "We've been cleaning out some stuff from Angel's old apartment."

"Oh."

Mark followed Collins into his bedroom, set the box he was carrying onto the floor, and exited the room, closing the door behind him. "I think we should probably give him a minute."

"What's in the boxes?" Maureen prodded.

"Oh, some of Angel's clothes, his -- _her_ drumsticks, photos and stuff."

"Think he'd let me see?"

"He needs to be alone Maureen." Mark rolled his eyes at her selfishness.

"Why do you hate me so much?" Maureen accused.

"Hate you? I don't!" Mark replied, feeling defensive.

"You make snotty comments about me; you roll your eyes…why can't we be friends?"

"You dumped me, Maureen."

"Not because I didn't…"

"For a girl, Maureen." Mark tried to walk away, but Maureen trailed him aggressively.

"Mark, I can't help who I fall in love with."

"Yeah, but do you have to fall in love with everything that walks?"

"That's not true!" Maureen's voice got louder. "How could you even say that? Joanne and I were together for…"

"You cheated on _me_ with Joanne!" Mark's tone got more aggressive as well. He closed his eyes for a moment to regain his composure. "Look, Collins needs some quiet. Can we just…talk about this later?"

"No. Let's…" Maureen paused. "Come on, let's take a walk…like we used to."

"No. No, I just carried an enormous box all the way from Angel's. I'm beat. Let me just…"

"Aw, come on, Marky!" Maureen whined. "We can walk to the park like we used to. You know, reminisce a little."

Mark stared at his ex, confused. Why did she suddenly care about their past? What did she really want from him? Mark sighed, and then raised his hands in surrender. "Fine." Mark put on his jacket and his favorite striped scarf. Maureen, who had apparently borrowed some clothing from Mimi, slipped on a button down coat that reminded Mark of furniture upholstery. They left Collins alone in the apartment and walked out into the busy, dirty streets of Bohemia.

"So where were you this morning?" Mark questioned, remembering that Maureen had not been in the loft when he and Collins left.

"Mimi's. We talked a little; had coffee."

"Roger had coffee too?"

"Nah, he was too busy pouting 'cause I walked in on them having sex."

"Maureen!" Mark felt his face flush.

"Well how was I supposed to know they'd be having sex?"

"Well, they haven't been alone since Roger got back from Santa Fe."

"Anyway, Mimi let me borrow some clothes until I can pick mine up at Joanne's."

"So you aren't even gonna try to…"

"No." Maureen's answer was sudden and solid.

"But I thought you cared about her."

"Well, I do, but…" Maureen stopped in her tracks and looked up at Mark. "We're just too different. I don't belong in her world. She's accustomed to all the fine things in life: expensive clothes, fancy restaurants. I'm just a struggling artist who feels lucky to get tuna out of a can to eat. We tried to make it work, but…" Her voice trailed off. She looked as if she was going to cry. "We're just too different."

Mark was surprised. It appeared that Maureen was no longer flying by the seat of her pants. She had actually thought this through. "Oh," was all Mark could muster. What did all this mean? Was she making the right choice? Was it any of his business? He turned and began walking again, soon feeling Maureen's grasp on his forearm and her head on his shoulder. He decided not to push her away. Maureen, it seemed, needed him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: I just wanted to say a big thank you to _Jedi Master Arie Skywalker_ and _RENThead4life96_ for the encouraging reviews. The positive support has**** been very helpful. Hope you enjoy the seventh installment!**

* * *

Chapter Seven

Mimi donned her best coat eagerly and headed toward the door. She needed to get outside; needed to breathe a little.

"Where you going, beautiful?" Roger put down his guitar and hurried to her side.

"Life Support. Then I think I'll go by and check on my mother. I haven't talked to her since the hospital." Mimi leaned in and gave him a quick kiss. "Bye."

"Wait, you need some company?" Roger reached for his coat as well.

"No, baby. You stay here. Practice. I won't be long." Mimi gave him another peck and smiled softly. "I'll be fine."

Roger frowned. "Can I at least walk you outside?"

"Of course," Mimi replied. She took Roger's arm as they walked downstairs. Once they reached the outside door, Mimi planted a final kiss on Roger's lips and smiled up at him sweetly. "I'll see you in a bit."

"Okay," Roger said, sounding hesitant.

Mimi smiled and breathed deeply, taking in the chilly winter day. She loved the hustle and bustle of the city. She loved being able to enjoy it completely. She savored the moment she had all alone. She finally felt free, like a bird released from a cage.

* * *

The loft was quiet as Mark and Maureen entered. They removed their coats in silence, unsure of what to say or how to act. Things were somehow different between them, and neither Mark nor Maureen could describe how or why. Habitually, Mark walked toward his bedroom, then stopped himself. _No,_ he thought,_ I am not going to retreat to my work every time I want to escape._ He smiled weakly, and motioned Maureen over to the "living room." They sat down together on the sofa, still completely clueless about what should come next. 

"So," Maureen said, finally breaking the silence, "have you had any big breaks with your film yet?"

"No, I haven't." Mark didn't mention that he had been too insecure to even send it to anyone.

"Well, don't worry, Marky. You will." Maureen's words seemed heartfelt. Mark's mind raced. He finally concluded that he'd never been more confused about anything in his entire life.

"Really? You think so?" Mark feebly attempted to remain cool.

"Oh, I know it."

"Really?!"

"Yes," Maureen smiled. "Give yourself some credit, Mark. You're incredibly talented."

"No…" Mark felt his face turning red. He silently cursed his fair complexion.

"No, I'm serious!" Maureen encouraged him. "The film is inspiring. You can't just let it sit on a shelf Mark. You've gotta put yourself out there. I'm serious."

"Okay, thanks." Mark finally smiled at her, and then felt himself blush all over again. _Stop it,_ he scolded himself. _Don't let yourself feel that way. Not again. Not about Maureen._ Mark rose quickly and excused himself from her company. "I'm going to see if Collins is okay."

"Mark!" Maureen jumped up hurriedly. She caught Mark's arm before he could escape into Collins' room. Mark raised his eyebrows, wondering what else was on her mind.

Maureen stood silent for a moment, grasping his arm. Mark looked down at her pensively. His head was full of questions, and his heart pounded out of his chest. Before he could question her actions, Maureen took his face in her hands and kissed him deeply. Mark began to pull away, but then gave in to her warm, passionate kiss. He returned the kiss eagerly, grasping her tiny waist and drawing her nearer. The kiss lasted only a moment before Mark regained his senses and released his hold on her. He stared at her briefly, unsure whether to grab her again or run away. Maureen merely smiled and wiped her smudged lipstick with her pointer finger.

"Thank you for listening to me today," she said.

Mark sighed heavily before darting into Collins' room. He smiled softly as the door closed behind him. _Whatever that was,_ he thought, _was completely incredible._ Unfortunately, though, he was more baffled than ever before.

* * *

Roger strummed a few chords on his guitar before glancing over at the clock for the hundredth time. He silently scoffed at his former self: the reclusive ex-rocker who was convinced that love didn't exist anymore. He had been reformed, thanks to an eccentric drag queen and the girl with moonlight in her hair. Roger laid his guitar on the sofa next to him. He couldn't concentrate on music. He couldn't focus on anything but Mimi. Roger felt compelled to ensure her safety; to protect her and keep her safe from harm. But somehow, he gathered that Mimi wasn't so enthusiastic about his new-found devotion. _Well, I can't just sit here anymore,_ Roger thought to himself. He rose from the sofa and grabbed his leather jacket from its hook on the nearby wall. Then he hustled down the stairs and out into the frosty winter afternoon, his breath coming in tiny puffs of smoke before him. 

Roger arrived as the community center just as the Life Support meeting came to a close. He waited for Mimi in the adjacent hallway and caught her by the arm as she exited the meeting, waving goodbye to others still inside.

"Hi," Roger greeted her, smiling.

"Hi." Mimi's smile was not so warm. "What are you _doing_ here?"

"I just…I came to check on you. Make sure you were okay." Roger desperately hoped that she would feel more secure because he was there. Maybe they could visit Mrs. Marquez together, or grab a bite to eat at the Life Café.

"Everything's fine." Mimi freed herself from his grasp and brushed by him hastily.

Roger followed her out the door and down the outside steps. He caught up with her on the sidewalk. "What's wrong?"

"I told you I'd be home later."

"Yeah, I know. I just wanted to be with you, that's all." Roger tried to put his arm over her shoulders, but Mimi shrugged him off. Roger wished she'd look him in the eye.

Mimi stopped in her tracks and looked up at him solemnly. "Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I do," Roger responded.

"Do you think there's somebody else?"

"No." Roger shoved his hands into his jean pockets.

"Do you think I'm buying drugs?"

"N-no. Mimi, I just said I trust you."

"Then what is it? Three months ago you didn't want to commit. Now I can't even go to the bathroom without you beside me! I don't understand why you can't find a happy medium, Roger. I don't understand why you're suddenly so clingy." Mimi searched his face for an answer, but Roger was silent. "WHAT IS IT?"

Roger fought back the tears that had sprung into his eyes. He stared full into Mimi's face, feeling more vulnerable than he ever had before. "I'M AFRAID!" he confessed. Roger suddenly felt Mimi's grasp on his forearm. "I'm afraid I'll lose you. I'm afraid you'll get sick or hurt and I won't be there to help you. I want to take care of you. I want us to be together until…until the end…" Roger watched as tears streamed down Mimi's face. "Mimi, you saved me. Please give me the chance to take care of _you_. I…I couldn't stand losing you again. I'd never forgive myself."

Mimi wiped the tears from her own face and wrapped her arms around Roger's neck. Roger returned the embrace; clinging to the woman he loved with all he had. He savored the smell of her hair; the softness of her skin. Roger looked down at Mimi and brushed a strand of hair from her wet face. The couple shared a long, romantic kiss, completely oblivious to the lively bustle of New York City that was happening all around them.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: Thanks to all of you who have offered the great reviews. I'd be interested to learn some of your predictions and/or hopes for the characters in this story, if you're willing to offer them. Anyway, I appreciate the encouragement. Hope you enjoy Chapter Eight!**

* * *

Chapter Eight

"She kept my sleeve."

Mark's racing thoughts were interrupted by Collins' deep voice.

"What?" Mark asked, startled.

"My sleeve. Angel kept my freaking sleeve." Collins' long legs were sprawled out on the cold concrete floor, his back and head leaning against the wall. Mark hadn't seen him look so helpless since Angel's funeral.

"What sleeve?"

"My _sleeve_…from that _night_…" Collins peered into the darkness blankly.

Mark scratched his head, confused, and took a seat next to his friend. "What happened?"

"It was that Christmas Eve that I came back from M.I.T. Those guys jumped me looking for – money, I guess. I didn't have any so they took my coat. This sleeve…" he held the coat sleeve up in demonstration, "…was the only thing they didn't get. It must've ripped when they grabbed my coat. That was the night Angel saved me. The night we met…" His eyes gleamed with simultaneous joy and sadness. He chortled quietly and briefly, and then heaved a pitiful sigh. "I had no idea she kept it."

Mark sat speechless for a moment. He too missed Angel. She had been upbeat and positive; charming and witty. Angel had brought out the best in each of the Bohemian cronies. She had inspired them to strive for greatness. And she had taught them that petty differences could be put aside when it came to true friendships. Her death, it seemed, had established a rift between them all; a rift that Mark was unsure how to mend. He hung his head and breathed deeply, wondering how to console Collins when he himself was still hurting.

"How do I…" Collins stumbled over his words. "I want to remember, but at the same time, I want to forget. Remembering makes me miss her, and I miss her so much that it hurts. I don't know how to make the hurt go away." Collins dabbed his eyes with the worn coat sleeve. "It's too hard, man. It's just too hard."

The pair once again fell into silence. Mark let his mind drift from the thought of Angel. He couldn't bear to think about her anymore, either. "I kissed Maureen," he blurted out, not really intending to vocalize his thoughts.

"What?" Collins smiled, appearing relieved for the fresh subject mater.

"I kissed Maureen…Actually she kissed me and I, sort of, kissed her back." Mark cringed as he awaited Collins' reply.

"You _still_ love her!" Collins accused jokingly.

"No!" Mark insisted as Collins chuckled deeply. "I shouldn't have told you. It just sort of…happened."

"So what are you going to do?" Collins questioned once his laughter had subsided.

"Nothing I guess…I don't know…What _should_ I do?" Mark brought his knees up to his chest and dropped his head.

"Well that depends on how you feel about her," Collins replied, still grinning. "See, if you…"

"What's going on in here?" Roger's voice asked in a singsong manner. He swaggered into the room and took a seat on the edge of the bed, facing Mark and Collins.

"I'm just counseling my good friend Mark," Collins told him, smiling smugly. Then, after a pause, "He kissed Maureen."

"What?!?" Roger's mouth gaped open. Collins chuckled heartily, loosely covering his mouth with his forearm. Mark's eyebrows furrowed in a pout. Roger stared at Mark hard, awaiting some kind of explanation.

"We – just – we went for a walk," Mark began, "and Maureen just starts pouring her heart out to me. She was upset about Joanne and just needed somebody to talk to, I suppose. Anyway, I listened to her, assured her that everything would be fine, and bought her a soda. Then we came home, and all of a sudden, she kisses me."

"But you kissed her back," Collins reminded him.

Why did Collins have to be so damn haughty? Mark suppressed his anger, trying not to let his frustration show. He couldn't be upset with Collins. This was his own fault. He never should have mentioned the kiss…to anyone. "It was no big deal."

"No big deal?" Roger scoffed. "Are you kidding?"

"It didn't mean anything," Mark told them…and himself.

"How could she do that to you?" Roger was not half as amused as Collins. In fact, he seemed angry.

"Roger—" Mark attempted to assure him that things were fine.

"No! Maureen thinks she can just waltz in here, cause a big uproar, and have nobody call her on it! It's ridiculous! Why would she _do_ something like that? She knows you're still not over her!"

"But I _am_ over her!" Mark objected.

"Mark, man," Collins shook his head. "You're in denial."

"Yeah," Roger added. "You let Maureen walk all over you. You've _always_ let Maureen walk all over you. Can't you see? She comes to find you when she has nothing better to do."

"Or no _one_ better to do." Collins smiled a bit.

"Well don't fall for it," Roger advised. "Don't let her suck you back in."

"Don't worry," Mark said, a bit disappointed at his friends' advice. "I refuse to fall for Maureen Johnson ever again."

Mark bit his bottom lip in dismay. He hoped he had convinced Roger and Collins that he had no romantic feelings for Maureen…Mark's heart, however, would need a little more convincing.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: Okay, I'm debating on whether to continue "Another Year..." or not. The lack of reviews has made me curious whether anybody is even reading my work. Is my first attempt at Fan Fiction a failure? And yes, I am "fishing" for reviews, but I want to know if my time and hard work are being wasted.**

**P.S. Another BIG thank you to Jedi Master Arie Skywalker for the encouragement. You rock!**

* * *

Chapter Nine

Joanne heaved a sigh as she eyed the nearby wall clock anxiously. She was grateful this case was finally over; perhaps now she could go home and get some rest. All she had to do was escape her ecstatic client: an emotional single mother who would now receive child support, all thanks to Joanne. The reputable lawyer gave her client a slight embrace and a reassuring smile, then took her briefcase and exited the courtroom. She truly loved her job, despite the fact that being a lawyer was exhausting. It had been a long time since she'd had any real enjoyment in life. Joanne wondered silently if she was capable of having fun anymore at all.

She hurried toward the building exit, attempting to avoid the mild clamor coming from a nearby doorway: another courtroom in the building. Instead she was stopped in her tracks by the face of an old acquaintance. Benjamin Coffin, III.

"Shit!" Joanne whispered. She held her briefcase alongside her face as she walked even faster, praying that Benny wouldn't spot her.

"Joanne?" Benny's voice rang out loudly. He untied the silk necktie he was wearing, and slipped it from his neck as he approached her. "What are you doing here?"

_What a stupid question,_ Joanne thought to herself. _He knows I'm a lawyer._ "I had court today," she replied, coolly. "The question is: what are _you_ doing here?"

"Uh, business stuff." Benny gave his own lawyer a brief wave, and followed Joanne out into the bright sunlight. "But enough about me. How is everyone? I heard Mimi was in the hospital."

"She's home now," Joanne told him solemnly. "Everyone else is okay, I suppose. I haven't been to the loft since New Year's." She hoped that Benny would let it rest, but he was insistent.

"Maureen doing all right?"

"I wouldn't know." Joanne made an escape attempt, but Benny continued to trail her.

"You're broken up?"

"Maureen is a selfish, childish, drama queen. We share no common goals and have no common interests. We decided it was time to acknowledge that." Joanne sounded sensible and prudent, although her eyes began to well with tears. She sniffed nobly then resolved to act her age. Both she and Maureen were better off apart. Any idiot could see that. There would be others with whom Joanne could share her love. Others who desired what she desired out of life.

"Well I'm sorry to hear it." Benny's voice broke through Joanne's deep thoughts.

"It's no big deal, really," Joanne lied. "Listen, Benny, I have an appointment," she lied again, "I have to go." She turned and hustled down the busy block, eager to get home and have a stiff drink and a good cry.

"Joanne!" Benny's voice called from behind. He finally caught up with her and stopped her again. "I'd really like to catch up. Would you like to…have a drink with me?"

She studied his face for a moment, unsure where this was going. She was a lesbian, and Benny knew it. _No, it isn't a date,_ she thought fixedly. _But why the sudden interest in me?_ For a moment, Joanne considered simply calling him a bastard and walking away. But she was intrigued to learn what Benny wanted from her, so she agreed to accompany him to a nearby bar.

The bar was simple and sophisticated. _A nice place for a respectable lawyer to have a drink,_ Joanne decided. She chose a small table near the wall and took a seat. Benny sat across from her, smiling chivalrously. Neither of them spoke until their drinks arrived.

"So…" Joanne prompted him, "what's going on?"

"Well," Benny began after sipping his scotch, "I've decided to try to make amends."

"Amends?" Joanne glanced at him, puzzled at his bluntness. "What do you mean?"

"I'm going to ask forgiveness from Mark and Roger. I know they're pissed at me for the way I treated them, and I guess I deserved to be hated…"

Joanne rolled her eyes and nodded frantically.

"It was wrong of me to sacrifice our friendship the way I did. I hope they'll be able to forgive me."

"Unfortunately, Benny, it won't be that simple," Joanne advised. "Do you honestly think that Roger will forgive you after what happened with Mimi?"

"Well, I'd like to try." Benny's face was somber. "It's just that…I've examined my life and realized that I have no friends. I've been successful on the job and have many close clients, but no one to confide in outside the workplace. I don't like who I've become, Joanne." He looked as if he might cry any second.

Joanne bit her bottom lip and tried to suppress the feelings of pity that welled up inside her. She was against everything that Benny had done over the past year. For all she knew, this newfound regret could just be an act. Benny was a weasel; Joanne refused to see him as a human being after the way he'd treated her friends. "Well you have your wife," she halfheartedly consoled. "I'm sure she's been a great deal of comfort to you."

Benny looked up at her meekly. "Actually, Allison and I have divorced. That's why I was at the courthouse today. It became official just today. She just couldn't get over my relationship with Mimi. I guess I can't blame her. That one was _my_ fault, too." He hung his head remorsefully.

Joanne blinked hard. It appeared that he was genuinely ashamed of his actions. Reluctantly, she reached across the table and rested her hand on top of his. "It's okay, Benny," she consoled. "Everything's going to be okay."

* * *

Mimi hummed as she drummed her fingers lightly on the kitchen counter. She had never been especially domestic, but she was determined to cook something special for Roger. He had contacted two members of his old band, and they had decided to get together and relive some old times with a jam session at the loft. Roger was thrilled to see his old band mates and hoped that the reunion would be permanent; he needed his music to be heard again. Things were definitely looking up for Roger, so Mimi wanted to celebrate. Maybe this was their chance to truly be happy together.

Mimi had recruited Collins' help, sending him to the Food Emporium for some groceries and some candles. Collins, very evidently, knew the code to Angel's honorarium at the nearby ATM and had also promised her the best champagne he could find for after dinner…to celebrate the band's reunion. Mimi had also enlisted her mother's assistance by calling to ask for her recipe for enchiladas. Mimi's mouth watered as she remembered the taste of the authentic Mexican dish; her most favorite. She smiled, envisioning Roger's expression when he tasted her masterpiece. This would be an incredible night.

* * *

Roger grinned contentedly to himself. He wondered what Mimi was up to down there. Collins was in on the plan; of that he was certain. Roger could hardly contain his excitement, which was a strange feeling for him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so eager for anything. He tuned his guitar for the third time, hoping that Chris and James would show up soon.

He tried to remember the last time he had seen them. _The funeral,_ he thought. _April's funeral._ Roger shivered at the now-distant memory. He had gone through those days in a fog, unsure whether to grieve for April or for himself. He remembered the drive home with Mark after the funeral. He had cursed Mark severely for advising him to join an AIDS support group. Mark had seemed unfazed by the abuse; he swore that Roger's welfare was his main concern. And the usually anal Mark had been surprisingly unruffled by Roger's intense withdrawals a few weeks later. Mark had stood beside him when his rocker friends abandoned him. Despite their occasional personality clashes, Roger decided, Mark Cohen was certainly his best friend.

"Hey Rog," Mark's voice called from within his bedroom. "Are the guys here yet?"

"No," Roger replied. He plucked his guitar strings softly.

Mark emerged from the bedroom, his eyes weak and tired-looking. He had obviously been editing films. He padded into the makeshift kitchen and began making himself a cup of tea. "Want some?"

"Nah." Roger was too keyed up to drink tea. "You think Chris and James have changed any?"

"Well, I hope so…for your sake," Mark replied.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Roger asked, offended.

"Don't _you_ hope they've changed? You're certainly not who _you_ were two years ago."

Roger stared down at the guitar for a moment. Mark was right. He silently wondered if his old band mates were still up to their old tricks: womanizing, getting drunk and getting high. Roger had once seen them as the paragon of the rock 'n' roll lifestyle. What would he do if they asked him to get high with them again?

A knock on the door startled him. He practically leapt from his seat on the couch. Mark snickered at his friend's enthusiasm. Roger slid the metal door open hastily, revealing two slender male figures, both holding guitars. Chris and James had arrived…


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Mark watched intently as Roger played his song for James and Chris.

"_Your eyes as we said our goodbyes…can't get them out of my mind, and I find I can't hide…from your eyes, the ones that took me by surprise…"_

It was good; very good. Mark only hoped the assholes would take Roger seriously. He had poured his heart into this song. For Roger, music was more than a pastime. Music meant to Roger what film meant to Mark.

Not that Chris and James weren't okay guys. Roger's former band had simply left a bad taste in Mark's mouth once Roger confessed to them he was HIV positive. They had completely abandoned him, despite the loss of his girlfriend, April. Mark was surprised that Roger would contact the ex-band mates at all after the way they'd treated him. But he supposed Roger's memory from the old days was a bit shoddy, considering the state he used to go around in. _Maybe,_ Mark thought, trying to remain optimistic, _just maybe they've grown up a little._

"That's awesome, man," Chris offered. "Sounds like a hit."

"You really think so?" Roger beamed. Mark, however, questioned whether the reactions were genuine.

"Yeah, Roger, where've you been all this time?" James questioned.

"What do you mean? I've been _here_."

"You got another band?" Chris asked as he lit another cigarette. Mark rolled his eyes. Did they _have_ to smoke in the loft?

"No. That's actually why I asked you guys over here. I had…well, I'd sort of hoped that we could give the band another try. You know, play some clubs or something for starters. I've gotta do something to get some cash in my pocket." Roger's eyes were filled with hope.

"Tell you what," James said, stretching. "Chris and I are heading to a club to check out a drummer tonight. You should come along."

"Really?" Roger asked.

"Yeah," Chris picked up his guitar and plucked a few chords. "It'll be great. We can talk about old times."

"Yeah, great." Roger sounded too eager. The trio hung around the loft for a bit, revisiting songs they had once played as a band; joking and laughing.

Mark scoffed as he watched them. Roger wasn't one of them anymore. _He must realize he doesn't fit in anymore,_ Mark thought silently. Roger, however, appeared oblivious to the difference between himself and his former friends. He just seemed grateful to have a fresh audience; someone to hear his music. Mark stood perfectly still for a moment, trying frantically to absorb what was happening. What the hell was Roger doing? His former band mates had been in the loft for no more than an hour and were spoiling everything Roger had worked so hard to gain. Mark sighed as he remembered Angel's promise: _"He'll catch up later; he's just got other things on his mind…"_ Angel had only been dead for 2 ½ months and already things were returning to the way they had previously been. What was this spell that Angel had had on all of them? How could they retain the magic now that the magician was gone?

Mark returned to his room silently. He had no desire to witness Roger's catastrophic downfall. He felt scorned and miserable, tired and lonely. He wanted to escape…take his mind off of Angel, Roger, HIV/AIDS, Chris, James, and the calamity he anticipated. He glumly fumbled for his projector and his shoebox of film reels. He could avoid this whole dilemma if he just went to work. _Stay busy, stay busy,_ his mind hummed. Soon enough, Mark was entranced by the flicker of the projections on the nearby wall. Though he knew he was doing what Roger always accused him of, hiding in his work, Mark was too preoccupied to care.

* * *

Mimi scurried up the fire escape, wiped the frost from the loft window with her sleeve, and peered in. She smiled when she saw Roger, whose whole frame shook with laughter, his head thrown back, and his face red. She loved him dearly. She was almost unsure how she had come to love him. Nonetheless, she loved him more than she had ever loved anybody. He was the reason she fought for her life. 

She wanted more time - - more time with Roger. She wordlessly hoped, like a schoolgirl with a crush, that she would someday become Mrs. Roger Davis. Then she scolded herself for being so ridiculous. She was twenty years old, broke, and HIV positive. The only way she'd get a wedding was to ask Benny for the money. She would never do that.

Mimi rapped on the window and opened it as Roger waved her in. He was beautiful; decidedly better looking than the other guys with his wide green eyes and his tussled hair. He greeted her with a warm hug and a brief peck on the lips. Mimi smiled as he proudly introduced her to Chris and James.

"Hi," Mimi greeted them. "It's nice to finally meet you." She brushed a wild strand of hair behind her ear, ignoring Roger's gawking friends. She was not vain, though she knew she was beautiful. She had grown accustomed to men staring at her.

"Is my surprise ready yet?" Roger asked as he pulled her onto his lap and nuzzled her ear gently.

"Maybe." She was glad he took pride; almost boasted in their relationship. She remembered a time when he wouldn't even hold her hand in public.

"So Mimi," James said, loading his guitar back into its case. "Roger tells us his new song was written for you."

Mimi smiled again, then drifted into deep thoughts; memories of last Christmas Eve. She was certain she had seen Angel, dressed to the nines, encouraging her that heaven could wait. "_Turn around, girlfriend, and listen to that boy's song!"_ She'd had no idea that a new Roger awaited her when she returned home. She was relieved she had taken Angel's advice.

"Guys I'm going down to Mimi's for a bit. Can I meet you at the club?" Roger asked as Chris and James stood to leave.

"What club?" Mimi was curious. Could it be they had a gig already?

"We're uh, going to look at a drummer," Roger told her, raising his eyebrows at the possibility of a reunion tour.

"We're on our way there now. Come on, Rog, it won't take long. Mimi, you don't mind if we steal him, do you?" Chris spoke out of one side of his mouth. A lit cigarette dangled from the other side.

"Not at all," Mimi lied. She had her heart set on a romantic night alone with him. She scolded herself again; Roger had the chance to become a star. Who was she to stand in his way? She didn't want to be selfish, and she certainly didn't want Roger to feel that he had to be with her every minute. He had finally begun to relax after that day at Life Support. Mimi smiled at him supportively and nodded. "Go ahead," she said. "The surprise can wait."

"I won't be long, I promise." Roger kissed her forehead and gently cupped her chin in his hand for a moment. "This is for _us_. You know that, right?"

"Of course." Mimi squeezed his free hand reassuringly, then cast her eyes down to the floor.

"Hey…" Roger stood gazing at her until Mimi's eyes met his. "I love you."

Mimi blushed a bit then replied, "I love you, too." She watched as Roger and the guys left. She started back to her apartment, but decided to hang upstairs for a while once she remembered the dinner and candles she'd set up downstairs. If Roger could eat cold enchiladas, Mimi supposed she could, too.

* * *

Mark squinted as he entered the common room. The flourescent, albeit dim, light was a harsh change from his dark bedroom. He shuffled over to the sofa where Mimi sat, picking lint from the worn throw pillows.

"Hey." Mark greeted her cautiously.

"Hi." She was obviously pouting.

"You okay?"

"Fine."

"You sure, 'cause you look kind of...?"

"Mark, I said I'm fine."

"Okay...Sorry." Mark stiffened, then went to the kitchen, hoping to find some of Collins' Stoli around somewhere.

"God, Mark, you could put up a little bit of a fight," Mimi mumbled.

"Huh?"

"You're nice..._too_ nice," Mimi informed him. "It's almost pathetic."

"Yeah, well my mother told me never to fight with girls."

"And look where it got you with Maureen." Mimi's cat-like grin made Mark smile, too. He eased his way back in her direction.

"So Roger's gone..." he observed.

"He went to check out a drummer or something. He's with..."

"James and Chris, I know."

"You don't like them?"

"Oh, they're all right, I guess." Mark wanted to share the whole sad story with her, but held back. "Are you angry with him? Roger?"

"Not angry. A little worried, maybe. And a bit lonely, too." Mimi's expression was soft and sad. "I hope he'll hurry back."

"Worried about what?"

"It's nothing," Mimi told him.

"Okay, if you don't want to talk about it..." Mark gave her a small wave and headed toward his bedroom.

"Do you think it will change him? The band?" Her voice resembled the voice of a frightened little girl. Mark returned to her side again. He sat next to her on the sofa and put his arm around her frail shoulders. Mimi leaned her head on his shoulder and cuddled the sofa pillow closer to her chest.

"What do you mean?" Mark asked in a caring, gentle voice.

"I'm afraid he'll become the depressed, introverted, 'don't commit' rocker he used to be," Mimi admitted. "I'm afraid we'll have to start all over. Honestly, I don't think I have the strength to start all over."

Mark raised his eyebrows, surprised that Mimi would confide in him. He realized that Mimi's fears perfectly mirrored his own. The whole group had once been unified and strong. Angel's death and Mimi's subsequent sickness had weakened them all. If things returned to the way they used to be, how could any of them endure it? Mark rubbed his forehead with his fingertips, desperately searching for the right words to say. How could he reassure Mimi while still voicing his own concerns?

"Mimi, I think that..." He was interrupted by a banging on the heavy metal door. Mark rose and called toward the sound, "Yeah, who is it?"

"It's Collins man. Open up, hurry!"

Mark hustled toward the door to find an obviously shaken Collins waiting. "Collins, are you..."

"Mark, you need to come with me." Collins grabbed his arm hastily.

"Why? What do you mean? What's going on?" Mark tried to stand his ground until he received some answers, but Collins was too strong for him. Collins jerked him closer to the stairs.

"Come on, man. Help me."

Mark's mind raced. What the hell was happening? "Collins, what is it? What's wrong?"

"You gotta help me lift him."

"Wait! Lift who?" Mark's face grew pale and his hands shook. Collins stopped suddenly and looked at him very matter-of-factly.

"Roger's been hurt."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Collins nervously fumbled through a year-old magazine. He detested hospitals. They made him anxious and uneasy. The antiseptic odors were nauseating to him. Hospitals reminded him of suffering and death -- namely _Angel's_ suffering and death. Those final days had been horrible. Nightmarish. He put down his magazine and rubbed his aching head with both hands. _Angel._ Why couldn't he clear his mind? Why couldn't he get some relief from his thoughts of her? _She's been dead for almost three months,_ he reminded himself. _I have to find a way past this._ Collins dropped his head sadly. His shoulders sagged as if weighted down by an enormous burden. He wondered if he'd ever be able to love again. Of course it would be difficult since part of him, he realized, had been buried on that day Angel was laid to rest. At the same time, however, he understood that Angel would want him to be happy.

_Stop,_ he ordered himself silently. _Stop doing this. Stop grieving. She's gone now, and there's nothing more to do about it. Don't be troubled by things you can't control. No day but today, remember? No day but today…_

He stood quickly as Mark emerged from Roger's hospital room. "What's going on?" he asked eagerly.

"He's going to be fine," Mark assured him. "He's pretty banged-up, though. Had to have several stitches. And he's got a concussion. The doctor wants to keep him over night for observation. But he's okay."

Collins heaved a sigh of relief as he and Mark embraced. Roger had given them a good scare; that was for sure. "I'm gonna…go in and see him," Collins said. "Maureen's on her way. Will you…?"

"Yeah. I'll wait out here for her." Mark gave him a reassuring smile and took Collins' place in the waiting room chair.

Collins braced himself as he walked down the blank, cold, white hallway toward Roger's room. He entered slowly and spotted Roger sitting up on the side of a hospital bed. Mimi was beside him, snuggled as close as she could get. The pair smiled as Collins entered.

"You all right, man?" Collins questioned. "'Cause if you are, I'm gonna kick your ass for scaring me like that!"

Roger managed a feeble grin, then motioned for Collins to sit down in a nearby chair. Collins obliged. "I'm fine," Roger replied.

"He lost a lot of blood so he's very weak," Mimi informed Collins softly. "But he won't lie down."

"I'm fine, Mimi, really." Roger appeared comforted by her mere presence.

"Well, tell me what happened," Collins directed, eyeing Roger's bruises.

"It was no big deal," Roger replied.

"No big deal?" Mimi scoffed. Then she turned to Collins. "He was injured while defending my honor," she boasted proudly.

"Really?" Collins grinned slyly. "Do tell!"

"Oh, we went to this club downtown to look at a drummer. When we got there, the guy we had gone to see wasn't onstage yet, so we had a couple drinks. And this girl…"

"Their waitress," Mimi interjected.

"…started flirting with all of us. When she started talking dirty I told her to leave us alone. Said we weren't interested. The guys got pissed and asked me what my problem was. I told 'em to fuck off and they got even more pissed. Then they tried to start a fight with me by calling me names and reminding me of the shit I used to do. And when that didn't work they started bad-mouthing Mimi; asking me if I knew I was screwing a stripper. I guess they had seen her dance at the Catscratch or whatever. Anyway, _then_ I got pissed and started the fight."

"Wait a minute…you got a concussion from some bar fight?" Collins asked.

"We all threw some punches. I…seem to remember hitting my head on a table. Anyway, the manager threw all of us out. I guess I must've _passed_ out, and then you picked me up off the sidewalk. Thanks." Roger smiled at him goofily, forcing Collins to laugh.

"Well you certainly scared the hell outta me," Collins told him. "Even got me inside a hospital. But I guess this means no reunion tour."

Roger's face grew dismal. "Yeah," he responded dully.

"Ah, don't worry, Roger," Mimi encouraged. She rubbed his shoulder tenderly. "There are lots of other musicians in New York City. You can start fresh…build your _own_ band. And you know, I'll be proud of you no matter what."

"Thank you, Baby," Roger smiled. He put an arm around her and drew her closer, then kissed her softly. Mimi snuggled nearer and rested her head on his chest.

Collins got the hint. "Well, I'll let you two be alone," he said as he headed for the door. He gave a short wave as he looked back at Roger. "I'm really glad you're okay, man."

"Thanks, Collins."

The gentle anarchist returned to the waiting room where Mark and Maureen sat chatting. Maureen stood quickly and embraced him in an enormous bear hug. "How you doin', honey?" she asked.

"I'm okay," Collins smiled humbly. "Glad Roger's okay."

"Me, too," Maureen sighed. "I think I'll go in and say hello. Mark, are you coming?"

"Yes Maureen."

Collins smirked. Maureen had him whipped again. And Mark, the poor fool, didn't even know what had hit him. Collins loved Maureen, though. They had found they shared a strangely close bond when Maureen and Mark dated two years previous. Collins adored Maureen's candid, tolerant, albeit dramatic, personality. She was fearless; unafraid to speak her mind about any topic, regardless of who was listening. He admired her boldness and nonconformity. And Collins liked the idea of Maureen and Mark as a couple. Maureen's presence in the loft made it feel like home again.

"Well I'm going outside to smoke," Collins informed them. "If you guys hurry up we can take the subway home together."

"We won't be long," Mark promised.

Collins stepped outside into the brisk, cold night and lit a cigarette. He pulled his leather coat nearer to him as he puffed. _I can make it,_ he assured himself noiselessly. _As long as I have these people, my family, by my side, I'm going to be just fine. _He smiled as he blew billows of smoke into the night air, somehow certain that his respite was imminent.

* * *

Maureen clutched Mark's arm gently as they climbed up the stairs toward the loft. She wanted him back; she was sure of it now. And she knew exactly how to sway him. Maureen smirked when she felt his muscles tense beneath her hand. He would love her again. She was convinced he had never stopped loving her in the first place. She adored Mark's sweet submissiveness; a quality Joanne certainly didn't possess. He was talented and intelligent, dedicated to his work and loyal to his friends. She supposed she really had missed Mark. She finally appreciated him for who he was. They could be together. They could make things work. She just had to convince him she was willing to be monogamous…she had to convince _herself_ that she could be monogamous, too.

"You're blushing, Marky," Maureen graciously pointed out. She grinned again as she watched him loosen his striped scarf and unbutton his plaid coat.

"It's just warm in here, that's all," Mark muttered. He frowned at Collins who chuckled quietly behind them.

As they entered the loft, Collins crossed to the "kitchen" and fixed himself a bowl of cereal. He crunched on it loudly as he stood at the counter and skimmed the newspaper. Maureen removed her coat and scarf hastily as Mark checked their messages.

"Mark honey? Are you there? I don't think he's there…" It was Mark's mom calling from Scarsdale. Maureen giggled when Mark rolled his eyes sarcastically. "Just wanted to let you know, dear, that your father and I will be in the city next weekend…"

"Shit," Mark hissed.

"Your sister Cindy has bought us tickets to a Broadway show. Isn't that wonderful? She's sending us out for a night on the town for our 40th wedding anniversary!"

"Hint, hint." Maureen nudged Mark.

"Yeah, I'm the black sheep 'cause I'm too broke to even afford a card," Mark announced.

"…having my hair done and everything. Anyway, sweetheart, I'd like to see you while we're in town…"

"Notice she didn't say anything about my dad wanting to see me."

"…call you once we've arrived, okay dear? Love, Mom."

"Great!" Mark's aggravation was more than obvious.

"Oh, come on, Pookie," Maureen said affectionately. "So your folks are coming to the city. It won't be so bad."

"Oh yes it will!" Mark removed his coat and scarf as he stormed toward his room. He stopped in the doorway and looked back at the drama queen. "Maureen?" he said, bracing himself with both arms grasping either side of the doorframe.

"Yes?" Maureen rushed toward him eagerly. This was it! He wanted her; she knew it.

"Never call me Pookie again." Mark stepped into his bedroom and closed the door behind him.

Maureen crossed her arms in a pout and growled at Collins when he began laughing at her heartily. _I _will_ get him back,_ Maureen thought to herself. _Mark and I have history. We're good for each other. I have to find some way to win him back._

She stomped over to Collins and bumped him playfully with her right hip. He nudged her in return and then put his arm over her shoulders. They stood there for several moments, simply staring at the newspaper and enjoying the comfort of a friend's nearness.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: I'm back with an update. I really got stuck writing this chapter. I wanted to write something more than fluff about our RENT friends. There had to be some kind of conflict, not just happy-go-lucky random information. I hope you guys enjoy!**

**P.S. I'm truly grateful to everyone who reads and reviews for me. You have no idea how your good reviews encourage me. Thanks to all of my faithful readers who are hanging in with me on my first fanfic. I hope you won't be disappointed. Happy reading!**

* * *

Chapter Twelve

The high-rise building loomed dauntingly over Benny's head. He glanced at his watch and then strode through the glass doors, reminding himself to be confident.

"Good morning. May I help you?" the lady at the front desk inquired.

"I'm here for a meeting with Mr. Grey. My name is Benjamin Coffin…" Benny straightened his tie as the secretary dialed upstairs. This conference with his ex-father-in-law would not end well; Benny knew it. He breathed deeply and wrung his hands.

"You can go right up, sir."

"Thanks." Benny stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the ninth floor. He anxiously chewed on his fingernails as the elevator climbed. He knew people would be shocked if they learned Benjamin Coffin III was a closet nail biter. It was a nervous habit he'd hidden since his childhood.

_Ding!_

He sighed heavily and stepped out of the elevator. For a moment he considered turning around and climbing right back onto the elevator. Then he considered just ending it all…jumping from the ninth story balcony. After all, nobody would really miss him. Nobody. Except maybe Joanne.

_Joanne_. He concealed a smile as he thought of her. The strong yet vulnerable lawyer had become his rock over the past three weeks. She was the only one of the Bohemians who knew about his divorce, so Benny called her whenever he felt lonely or depressed. Joanne always had some comical story or uplifting advice to see him through. And although she swore she was only talking to him to piss Maureen off, Benny had noted the lift in her voice when she answered his calls. She would never admit that she herself was feeling alone, but Benny knew better. He was certain that their conversations helped Joanne's feelings, too.

Benny saw through Joanne's brash, tough, all-business lawyer exterior. He knew that inside she was as insecure as an orphaned child. She was motivated by nothing more than her desire to assist the less fortunate. Benny admired that about her. He wished he could be more like that. He knew he had been selfish in the past, but this divorce from Allison could be a new start for him; a chance at some redemption. He straightened his tie for the thousandth time and stepped cautiously into Mr. Grey's office.

"Good morning, sir."

"Benjamin."

"I wanted to thank you for all your help and advice over the past year and a half. It has proved to be invaluable, and …"

"Sit down, son," Mr. Grey advised firmly.

"Yes, sir." Benny resisted the temptation to gnaw at his fingernails. He sat rigid in the straight backed leather chair as Mr. Grey spoke.

"I'm very disappointed in you, Benjamin," the stout, gray-haired man informed him. "I am not happy with the way you hurt my Allison. In fact, I am deeply _un_happy. Had I known the type of lowdown stunt you'd pull, I never would have consented to the marriage in the first place."

"Sir, I…"

"I'm not finished. I treated you like a son, Benjamin. I took you under my wing and taught you the ropes of the real estate business. And for what? Dishonor, disloyalty, disrespect!"

"I'm sorry Mr. Grey, I…"

"Apologies aren't enough, Benjamin," Mr. Grey's voice was strong, though he was not yet screaming. "It's bad enough that you broke Allison's heart by seeing that dirty, drug-addicted stripper…"

Benny's face contorted angrily. "Mimi is not…"

Mr. Grey continued furiously, "…but you've let me down as well. Oh, I remember who you were when Allison first brought you home. You were nothing but a dirt poor twenty-something with a head full of dreams. I provided a job for you, paid rent on your and Allison's apartment, _handed_ you a career in real estate when you knew nothing about the business! And look what you've done. Your whole life's a shambles. You haven't got a leg to stand on! So go ahead and return to that damned rat-trap of a loft with those poor, sick, drug-addicted artists that you call friends. Go sleep with whomever the hell you want to; you're a free man now! But you mark my words, Benjamin. You are no longer the landlord of those apartments in Alphabet City. They belong to me. If you and your lousy friends can't pay your rent, you're out! No ifs, ands or buts about it; and no exceptions. I'll kick your sorry ass out of there before you can say 'rent'! Do you hear me?"

"Yes sir." Benny stood and gazed toward the open office door, praying no one had heard Mr. Grey's angry outburst.

"And one more thing. You are to be out of your apartment by Friday of this week. Allison has come back home to live with her mother and I, and we certainly will not pay rent on _your_ apartment after the way you've disgraced us."

"I'll begin packing right away, sir."

"You do that." Mr. Grey stared hard at him for what seemed like ages. "All right, that's all, Benjamin. You can go."

Without another word, Benny exited the office. He supposed he had deserved that. Why was the road to redemption so damned rough? And it would get worse when he confessed to Mark, Roger and Collins that they could lose the loft. They'd never let him move back in, either…so where was he supposed to go? He hung his head as he stepped onto the elevator. He despised himself for ever getting into this mess.

* * *

"Could you guys maybe help me just a little?" 

"No, go ahead, man. You're doing great."

Mark opened the loft windows and let the unseasonably warm breeze blow through the loft. He had replaced every blown light bulb in the place, scrubbed every countertop and tabletop, and reorganized the kitchen cabinets three separate times. He had folded every single piece of laundry and sorted every sock they owned. He had even scoured the bathroom, a chore which he despised and probably hadn't done thoroughly since April's death. He had recruited Mimi and Maureen to sew some curtains for the loft windows. They had done an incredible job. The deep red sheers made the loft look modern and homey at the same time.

"I don't know why you're working so hard to impress your mom," Roger said as he came up for air after another passionate make-out session with Mimi. The two hadn't managed to keep their hands off each other since Roger's release from the hospital

"Obviously you haven't met Mark's mom," Maureen commented, glancing up from the _Village Voice_ only briefly.

Collins chuckled heartily. "That bad, huh?"

Mark sighed then nodded. "The worst. She's a stickler for cleanliness, that's for sure."

"Well she should be happy, then. You've got everything spotless, Pookie," Maureen commented. She corrected herself as Mark glared at her. "I mean, Mark. You've got everything spotless, Mark." Her statement got another deep laugh from Collins. Roger and Mimi were going at it again, but their passionate displays of affection had become so common, nobody in the loft seemed to notice.

"Well I want everything to be perfect. At least as perfect as it _can_ be," Mark informed them as he picked up their worn-out, five bristle broom and attempted to sweep the ancient wood floors. "If my mom learned about the squalor conditions we're living in here, she would drag me back to Scarsdale kicking and screaming." He remembered the hotplate she'd sent him two Christmases earlier and set it out on the counter where he knew she'd notice it. He detested the fact that his mother wanted to see his place at all. He was certain it wouldn't be good enough for her. It seemed that lately, nothing he ever did was good enough to please his folks.

* * *

Joanne stomped up the stairs and unlocked the door to her apartment. It had been quite a day. Being a "big-shot" lawyer had its perks (the money wasn't bad, either), but she missed working in Legal Aid. Becoming part of a law firm meant endless meetings, appointments and business dinners. Besides, Legal Aid provided help for those who really needed it, really deserved it; and not for clients who wanted nothing more than to sue somebody over something insignificant. 

She pressed the play button on her answering machine and made her way to the refrigerator for a bottle of water. The machine beeped loudly and played the first message.

"Hey, Joanne, it's Benny…" She smiled softly. She never would have believed that she would actually like Benny Coffin, but he had definitely grown on her. "…had a rough meeting with Allison's dad today. I guess I just need somebody to talk to. Call me if you'd like to grab a drink or something later. I'll see ya."

_Beep._

"Joanne, hi, it's me." Joanne's eyed grew wide when she recognized Maureen's voice. Her heart grew hopeful for a moment, then: "Look, I need my stuff. I've been borrowing some things from Mimi, but I need my clothes, so, I wanted to see if I could pick my stuff up tonight. I won't be there long; I just need to pack up. I'm still at Mark's…" Joanne rolled her eyes. "…so you can call me back here, okay? Thanks. Bye."

Joanne's heart ached as she plopped down on the couch. Maureen asking for her belongings meant finality. Their relationship was truly over. Joanne wondered if she and Mark were back together. She guessed they deserved one another, though she pitied Mark a bit. Joanne understood what a corker Maureen could truly be. Mark was in for a difficult time unless he could keep Maureen on a short leash.

Joanne reached for the phone and dialed Benny's number. She needed a drink as badly as he did, thanks to Maureen's announced intentions. But as she awaited an answer, Joanne devised a plan that would ensure jealousy and passionate defiance from her ex-lover.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Benny, it's Joanne. I got your message."

"Oh, cool. Shall we get a drink tonight?"

"I've got a better idea. I've put on some pasta for dinner, and it's just as easy to make pasta for two. Why don't you come over for dinner and some wine?"

"Sounds good. What time?"

"Should be ready by seven. Does that sound okay?"

"Great. I'll see you at seven."

"See you then." Joanne smirked as she hung up the phone. She hurried to the kitchen and put on some water to boil the pasta. She took out some plates and silverware and then made a salad. Once dinner was underway, Joanne picked up the phone receiver and dialed the number to the loft.

After three rings, she heard the machine turn on. Mark and Roger's voices greeted her: "Speeeeeeeeeeeak!"

"Maureen? Joanne. I…wanted to let you know that I got your message. You can come over and pick up your things anytime. I'll be home for the rest of the evening." She hung up the phone hurriedly. She was proud of herself; she had remained calm and businesslike. She knew her ex-lover would be come over shortly and get the surprise of her life: Joanne breaking bread with the enemy. Maureen would, of course, curse and stomp around the apartment and break a vase or a picture frame. She'd probably try to hit Benny, forcing Joanne to throw her out. Maureen would go home confused and jealous. She would call Joanne later, apologizing for acting like such a spoiled child. Maureen would come crawling back within twenty-four hours.

Sure it seemed desperate, but Joanne was willing to try anything. She was sick of being lonely.

_Yes,_ she thought. _It's the perfect plan._


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: Okay, Chapter 13 is kind of a short one. Hope all of my faithful readers enjoy! Please leave me some reviews to let me know what you think...PLEASE! No seriously, they really do help me improve my writing. I'd really appreciate some input. Thanks in advance for reviewing!**

* * *

Chapter Thirteen

_Knock, knock, knock._

Mark's racing thoughts were interrupted by three bold thumps on his bedroom door. "Yeah, who is it?"

"It's me!" Maureen's voice replied.

"Oh. Come on in, Maureen." Mark hastily glanced around the room to ensure that no dirty underwear or smelly socks lay on the floor. He was relieved when he remembered that he'd cleaned the apartment in anticipation of his mom's arrival in the city.

"Whatcha doing?" Maureen smiled as she entered.

"I was…just about to edit some film."

"Well can it wait?" the drama queen asked as she seated herself on Mark's bed.

"I suppose so," Mark replied a little too eagerly. He plopped down beside her uneasily. He didn't appreciate the butterflies that arose inside him whenever he laid eyes on Maureen. Despite all of her faults and shortcomings, she was undeniably beautiful. Her brown eyes glowed with an energy that Mark couldn't quite define. Her creamy skin was flawless. Mark sighed quietly as he remembered what it felt like to caress her skin and smell her hair. It was almost enough to make him forget the dysfunction of their relationship.

"Good," Maureen smiled again. "I need you to help me with something."

"What is it?" Mark was curious.

"I've decided to get my stuff back from Joanne. I wondered if you could help me carry some boxes."

"Really?" Mark raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You're moving out completely, huh?"

"Yeah. That chapter of my life is closed." Maureen hung her head and sighed softly. Mark reached to touch her arm, then jumped slightly and backed away when Maureen spoke again. "I guess it's hard to deal with the end of any relationship. Even if it _is_ a mutual decision."

"Yeah," Mark said, attempting to console her but not really knowing how.

"Just like when you and I broke up…" Maureen began.

"I was _dumped_." Mark corrected her.

"But I missed you," Maureen told him.

Mark felt himself melt as her eyes met his. He was confused by the mysterious power Maureen Johnson had over him. He was compelled to both kiss her and push her off his bed…all at the same time.

"Ending a relationship is never easy," she continued. "Every relationship is different…special. I have lots of great memories of the time I spent with Joanne. So even though we're no longer together, I guess a little piece of my heart will always belong to her." She sounded as if she were delivering a theatrical monologue in a play.

"You're so dramatic," Mark scoffed. Feeling a little jealous of Joanne, he decided to change the subject. He eyed her suspiciously, "What did you miss about me?"

"Oh Marky, you're so predictable." Maureen slapped him playfully. "I knew you'd ask that."

"Seriously. What did you miss?"

"Okay. I missed your reliability."

"In other words, you missed bossing me around and having me grant your every request."

"Of course not, although that _was_ nice," Maureen joked.

Mark rolled his eyes, annoyed.

"Oh Mark, I was just kidding! When I said I missed your reliability, I meant that I missed you always being there for me. You always acted genuinely concerned about me."

"It wasn't acting. I _was_ genuinely concerned about you."

"You know what else I missed? I missed our inside jokes."

Mark felt himself grin forbearingly as he remembered the laughter he and Maureen had shared. He had loved the feeling of sharing a secret joke with her. "They were so ridiculous."

"Yeah, but we had so much fun."

"Roger and April thought we were out of our minds!" The pair shared a brief chuckle. Mark caught himself staring at her wide, white smile for too long and immediately dropped his gaze back into his lap.

"What did _you_ miss?" Maureen prodded.

"I can't…" Mark fidgeted nervously.

"Come on, Mark!"

"No…"

"Come on, Marky, I told you mine!"

"All right." Mark breathed nervously. "I missed filming you."

"Bound for your memory to be about that camera!"

"No, I'm serious. The camera loved you." Mark looked up at her and smiled softly. "_I_ loved you."

Maureen stared at him pensively. She swallowed hard, and then spoke: "_Loved_? You mean you don't still love me?"

Mark's pulse quickened, his thoughts raced. He wanted to tell her…everything. He wanted to confess the way he'd obsessed about her after she was gone, watching hours upon hours of film he'd compiled of the beautiful woman he adored. He wanted to admit that the entire time she'd been with Joanne; he'd been a jealous wreck, praying that she would change her mind and return to him. He wanted to lunge at her recklessly, kiss her swan-like neck and sniff her wild, curly hair. He wanted to make love to her again, feel as if he were one with her completely, the way he used to. Mark wrung his hands nervously, his breathing becoming more and more erratic. Was he having some sort of nervous breakdown?

"Mark?" Maureen questioned eagerly.

"No." Mark pushed all thoughts away and answered calmly and decisively, using Maureen's own words against her: "That chapter of my life is closed."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

"He's lying!"

"Maybe I should just leave him alone..."

"But he obviously cares about you!"

"…after all, I had my chance and I ruined it."

"Don't give up yet, honey. We'll think of something."

"But Mimi, what am I supposed to do?"

Mimi sighed as she gently stroked Maureen's curly locks. This was completely unexpected. How could Mark tell Maureen he didn't love her? Everyone who knew Mark could see how smitten he was whenever Maureen walked into the room. Why wouldn't he just admit he still cared for her?

"Don't stress about it anymore today. I'll come up with something." Mimi was determined to see Mark and Maureen together. _They both deserve to be happy,_ she reasoned silently. _God knows we've been through enough misery already. Someone around here deserves to be happy._

"I've got to pick up my stuff at Joanne's," Maureen frowned as she rose from her place on the sofa. "I'm not about to ask Mark again. Think Roger would mind helping me move a couple boxes?"

"He'd probably be happy to," Mimi assured her. "I'll ask him."

Mimi crossed the loft and tapped on the bathroom door. She entered before Roger could invite her in. Mimi smiled when she found Roger, wearing only a towel around his waist, shaving before the cracked, fogged bathroom mirror. "Hey," she said as she closed the bathroom door behind her.

"Hi," Roger replied, returning her grin heartily. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah. You can lose the towel," Mimi joked. She stood behind him silently for a moment, rubbing his damp shoulders gently. Roger used a thin, stained hand towel to wipe the excess shaving cream off his face, and then turned to face her.

"Did anyone ever tell you how incredibly beautiful you are?" Roger took her thin face in both his hands and kissed her sweetly.

Mimi returned the kiss readily before stating her business. "Actually I _do_ have a favor to ask you."

"Anything for you, my love," Roger promised as he leaned down to place small kisses up and down Mimi's café-colored neck.

The beauty put her request on hold long enough to savor the feeling of each warm peck on her skin. His hot breath caused chills to overtake her entire body. Mimi breathed in deeply, smelling his clean skin and hair. A soft giggle escaped her before Roger's lips reconnected with hers.

_He's incredible. He knows exactly how to touch me. It drives me wild,_ she thought. Mimi felt totally entranced as Roger kissed her passionately; his large, rough hands cradling her jaw line on both sides. She reached both arms around his neck and stroked his damp hair, which only intensified the passion with which he kissed her. Roger pulled away only long enough to suggest that they move to his bedroom. Mimi nodded in agreement, took his hand, and followed him submissively. Though they passed through the common room quickly, she caught a brief glimpse of Maureen; still pouting on the sofa.

"Shit," she hissed under her breath. She had forgotten all about Maureen.

"What?" Roger asked as he closed the bedroom door behind them.

"My favor," Mimi sighed.

"I'm gonna lose the towel. Don't worry," Roger grinned as he embraced her again.

"No," Mimi pulled away in order to avoid giving in to his kisses again. "I told Maureen you'd help her."

"Help her do what?" Roger questioned, acting a bit disappointed.

"She's going to get all her stuff back from Joanne's apartment. She needs you to help her move some boxes."

"Why me? Why doesn't she ask Collins or Mark?" He released his grasp on her, dropping his arms to his sides.

"Collins is out. And she doesn't want Mark to go." Mimi sat at the foot of Roger's bed.

"Why doesn't she want Mark to help her? I thought she had the hots for him again."

"Well, she does…" Mimi didn't really want to broach the subject with him.

"Then why wouldn't she ask _him_?" Roger opened his closet door and retrieved a wrinkled pair of boxers, faded denim jeans and a black t-shirt with cut-off sleeves.

"Well I don't know all the details," Mimi admitted, "but apparently Maureen made a pass at him and Mark shut her down."

Roger smirked as he dressed. "Well good for Mark. Maybe he's finally come to his senses."

"But he hasn't. I mean, we all know how he feels about her."

"He's realized that Maureen is not what he needs. He cares about her but knows it would be a mistake to get involved with her again. I think that's pretty wise."

"You talk as if you hate Maureen. She's one of our closest friends!" Mimi stood and crossed to Roger, unwilling to back down in her defense of their dramatic friend.

"She _is_ my friend. But baby, even _you_ have to admit Maureen's a little over the top sometimes."

"So what? Is that any reason for Mark to shut her down like that?"

"Mimi, you didn't see him…"

"Who?"

"Mark. You didn't see what he went through when Maureen dumped him."

"So enlighten me," Mimi tried to snuggle up to Roger's chest, but he turned away. He fumbled with some loose change and guitar picks on his nightstand before speaking again.

"He was a wreck. He didn't eat, didn't sleep. He stayed up 'til all hours watching movies he'd made of her…of them together. He critiqued every aspect of their relationship trying to pinpoint what made her leave. He truly believed he'd done something wrong…something to hurt her. While I went through heroin withdrawals, Mark went through Maureen withdrawals. He didn't understand that for Maureen, he was just a phase…just someone to fuck until she met somebody she liked better. Maureen is all about Maureen. She cares about pleasing herself, and it doesn't matter who gets hurt as long as Maureen is happy."

Mimi squeezed her way between Roger and the nightstand. She stared into his eyes for a moment and realized how strongly he really felt about the whole matter. "You're right. I didn't know Mark or Maureen then. I didn't see what Mark went through. But Roger, Mark and Maureen are _my_ friends now, too. I would never encourage them to be together if I didn't believe they were right for each other…" Roger stared blankly at the floor. Mimi commanded his attention: "Look at me. Life is so short, Roger. We aren't promised tomorrow. We can't spend our lives dwelling on the past. Mark and Maureen split up over a year and a half ago. Now he has the chance to win her back; to be happy…"

"But what if she dumps him again?"

"What if she doesn't? Maureen's changed, Roger. Angel changed her, just like Angel changed everyone else. Watching a friend die alters you. None of us will ever be the same. Give her a chance to show you who she is now. She cares about Mark, Roger. She regrets hurting him before and she wants another chance…"

"No! She's had her chance." His voice elevated and got louder.

"Roger!"

"Mark's my best friend, Mimi. For a long time, he was my _only_ friend. Mark stood by me…"

"I understand that…"

"You don't! Mark saved my life long before you did!"

Taken aback by his words, Mimi stood motionless for a moment. She gazed silently at Roger, whose eyes were suddenly sad. She didn't understand what he meant. He'd never shared much about his past with her – never told her what his life had been like before she'd entered it. Mimi had felt the past was irrelevant; she hadn't shared much of her past with Roger, either. She reached out to touch him, but pulled away when Roger began to speak again.

"When I found out I was sick…after April died, I was angry. I was angry that April had escaped HIV, and I was stuck here to suffer. I decided that I would escape, too. But I wasn't going to leave some stupid note to tell people why I killed myself. I was going to explain my reasons myself. I figured that after all of my friends and family found out I had AIDS they would disown me, and that would help me to feel less guilty about what I was going to do. So I told my friends from the band first. They treated me like someone with the plague; abandoned me completely. My parents were pissed. They claimed they still loved me, but they didn't ask me to go back home…they didn't want to watch me die…"

_That explains a lot,_ Mimi thought silently. _Roger tried to escape to Santa Fe so he wouldn't have to watch _me_ die. I guess he comes by his escapist tendencies honestly._

"…Mark was the last person I chose to tell. I was convinced he'd leave me, too. I mean, he was a naïve, sheltered Jewish boy from Scarsdale. I didn't expect him to hang around. I planned to scare him off immediately. Then I could end my life with no guilt…But instead of running, he - - he hugged me…" Roger's eyes welled with tears. His gaze returned to Mimi whose face was already streaked with salty tears. "He didn't leave, he wasn't mad. He had seen April's note, so he already knew. He was already prepared. He said, 'I'm here. Whatever you need, I'm here…' He promised to stand by me, and he did. Through all my anger and fear and guilt, he was there. Just knowing he supported me changed my mind about ending my life. As long as he was willing to stand by me, I was willing to hang around."

Roger sat down on his bed slowly. Mimi rushed to him, still reeling from his confession. She draped a slender arm over his shoulder. Roger stared into his lap and sniffled loudly.

"I've never told anyone about that before; not even Mark," he confessed.

"Well I'm glad you trust me enough to tell me," Mimi replied quietly. "Remind me to thank Mark someday."

Roger smiled softly. "I guess I just feel like I owe him, Mimi. If I talked him into something that got him hurt again, I would regret it. I guess I feel the need to protect the people I love."

Mimi nodded. His desire to protect others was something that endeared him to her.

"So until Maureen can prove that she won't cheat on him; won't leave him again, I can't give my blessing. She's going to have to prove herself to me."

"Just talk to her, Roger, okay? You'll see she isn't the Maureen we used to know."

Roger smirked as he stood up and walked toward the door. Mimi followed him and kissed him deeply before he walked out to meet Maureen in the common room.

"I'll talk to her, baby, okay?"

"Okay. Hurry back," Mimi instructed, smiling mischievously at him. "Maybe when you get back, _I'll_ be wearing the towel!"

Roger groaned longingly and closed the door behind him.


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note: Okay, be forewarned before you read Chapter 15: This is going to be a very controversial chapter for you readers, especially you die-hard Joanne fans. You'll either love this chapter or you'll hate it. Either way, I'd like to get some input as to how you feel about this chapter. I'm quite excited about it, actually. So PLEASE leave me a review once you've read it.**

**P.S. Big nod to Jedi Master Arie Skywalker who is constantly reviewing and boosting my ego! Thanks JMAS...your reviews motivate me to keep writing! Also a nod to Bohemian Cane who inspired me by using poetry in her story "The Favorite Poem Project."**

* * *

Chapter Fifteen

Benny cleared his throat as he waited for Joanne to answer the door. The dinner invitation had been unexpected, but he had to admit that he was grateful for the offer. Since his separation he'd certainly partaken in more than his share of solo meals. Some company would be nice tonight.

"Hey." Joanne stood smiling warmly as the door swung open. She was still dressed in full lawyer regalia, which made Benny feel a bit underdressed in his polo shirt and khakis. "Is that for me?"

"Oh…oh yeah." Benny grinned, slightly embarrassed, and placed the large wine bottle into her hands. "Thanks for having me over."

"Sure," Joanne replied. She opened the door wider and motioned him in.

Benny glanced around the conservatively decorated apartment. It looked exactly as he'd imagined it would. "Nice place," he commented.

"Oh, thanks," Joanne replied. "It's very simple, but I like it." She opened the wine and poured a generous glass for each of them. "Dinner will be ready shortly."

"Thanks." Benny took the glass eagerly. "Do you need help with anything?"

"Nah, just make yourself at home," Joanne instructed.

Benny seated himself on the overstuffed ivory sofa. He felt strangely comfortable here; more comfortable, in fact, than in his own (soon-to-be former) apartment. It was full of leafy green plants and colorful abstract paintings, sleek lamps and a glass-topped coffee table. A nearby bookshelf boasted scores of books, consisting mostly of authors like Toni Morrison and Maya Angelou. Benny moved to the shelf and fingered the hard-backed books curiously.

"_The Essential Gwendolyn Brooks_?" Benny questioned aloud.

"You read poetry?" Joanne replied.

"Are you kidding? I was artsy once!" Benny said, fondly recalling his days in the loft. He peered back at Joanne, who attempted to mask her broad grin.

"Well, I don't believe you," Joanne told him. "Quote me some Gwendolyn Brooks."

Benny felt a blush arise beneath his chocolate skin. He faced Joanne and cleared his throat loudly for dramatic effect.

Joanne chuckled as she grated cheese over their salads. "If I wanted theater, I'd call Maureen!" she joked.

Benny responded with a chuckle, closed his eyes, and then began. "_We Real Cool_ by Gwendolyn Brooks," he said.

"We real cool. We  
Left school. We

Lurk late. We  
Strike straight. We

Sing sin. We  
Thin gin. We

Jazz June. We  
Die soon."

He opened his eyes to see Joanne, mouth gaping, staring at him blatantly. "What?" he questioned.

"I'm just surprised," Joanne responded. "I didn't know a real estate mogul like you could quote poetry."

"I always loved that one," Benny confided. "Always loved Gwendolyn Brooks, too. I always thought she could write a poem about anything."

Joanne gawked another moment before returning to her senses. "Dinner's ready."

* * *

"Thank you again for helping me," Maureen said as she and Roger hustled down the busy streets of New York City.

"It's okay," Roger replied stoically.

"I'm sorry if I took you away from whatever you had planned."

"I didn't have any plans, really." Roger's eyes were set forward; his hands were in the pockets of his leather jacket. He strode down the sidewalk at a hurried pace, forcing Maureen to speed her own steps.

"Are…are you okay?" Maureen questioned as she caught up to him.

"Fine," Roger replied.

"Really? Because you seem really…distant today."

"I'm fine, Maureen."

"Okay." The drama queen pulled Mimi's bedspread coat tighter around her frame and continued the trek to Joanne's apartment in silence.

* * *

"Well this was excellent," Benny acclaimed as he helped Joanne clear the table.

"I'm glad you liked it," Joanne smiled. She silently suppressed butterflies that arose in her stomach when Benny's hand accidentally grazed her own. What was the matter with her tonight? The guy quoted an eight line poem and he had her all flustered. She silently advised herself to hold it together.

"I guess we've both learned something about one another," Benny mused.

"Oh yeah? What's that?" Joanne questioned.

"You cook and I read poetry."

The lawyer smiled broadly at him as she washed her hands at the kitchen sink. "That's true," she replied. "But the big question is: what are you going to do about the loft?"

"What do you mean?"

Joanne recalled Benny's description of his meeting with Mr. Grey. "Well Allison's father obviously has a vendetta against you. You know he'll take that loft right out from under Mark and Roger. And you know they can't afford rent. You have to tell them."

"I know," Benny sighed, his expression turning grim. "They're going to hate me."

"They already hate you," Joanne reminded him.

"Well then they're going to _despise _me," Benny said.

Joanne took a seat on the sofa and motioned Benny over. He sat next to her, resting his head on the back of the couch and rubbing his forehead in exhaustion. Joanne certainly felt for him. Mark and Roger would never understand. They'd question Benny's motives and accuse him of being selfish and unfeeling. She'd learned firsthand that Benny wasn't unfeeling. He was making a genuine attempt at recovering what he'd given up when he and Allison married.

"This shit is so hard," Benny muttered, drawing Joanne from her thoughts. "I wish I'd never gotten involved with Allison in the first place."

"But you did, and now you have to deal with the consequences."

"Chalk that one up to being young and stupid, huh?"

"And greedy. Don't forget greedy."

Benny smirked. "Okay, and _greedy_. But seriously, Joanne, what am I going to do? Suddenly I'm broke, I'm homeless. I have no job, no friends…"

"That's not true," Joanne interrupted. "You have me."

Benny's eyes widened at her statement, causing Joanne to wish she hadn't interrupted his soliloquy. She stared down at her lap for a moment then back at Benny, who was staring at her through sparkling brown eyes. He propped his elbow on the back of the sofa and faced her, as if awaiting another affirmation of their friendship. But Joanne couldn't speak; she didn't know what to say or how to say it. She was extremely nervous now, and completely baffled about the swirl of emotions that had risen up inside her. She'd never felt this way around a man before. In fact, she'd never cared much for men at all, except the love she felt for her father. She suddenly doubted everything she thought she knew about herself, and she was exhilarated by those feelings.

Benny cleared his throat and began, "Well…"

Before he could utter another word, Joanne hurriedly pressed her lips against his. She had to know what it was like to kiss a man. She wanted to understand why she suddenly had these feelings about someone she'd loathed so fervently less than two months ago. Benny appeared taken aback at first, but was soon returning the kiss unreservedly. Joanne felt a soft stroke on her face and began kissing him with more passion. She was unsure how she felt about doing this, but he _was_ a good kisser and she hadn't been kissed since the Maureen incident on New Year's Eve. She instantly made the decision not to stop. The attention felt good.

_Knock, knock, knock._

Their lips parted abruptly, interrupted by three bold thumps on the apartment door.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

"Maureen, hi." Joanne looked surprised to see her. Maureen glanced around suspiciously. Joanne _had_ given her the green light to pick up her things, hadn't she?

She stepped into the apartment and caught a whiff of garlic. Italian food. Joanne had cooked dinner for her. She supposed Joanne was making a weak attempt to get her back. It was sweet. And a bit sad.

Joanne greeted Roger with a warm hug. She didn't seem a bit awkward around _him_. Maureen shrugged off the twinge of hurt she felt at seeing Joanne's place again. Things looked exactly as they had been. It appeared that there was nothing very new or dramatic happening with her ex. She'd halfway expected to find the drapes drawn and the room painted black. But Joanne, it seemed, had coped quite well without her. It disappointed her a little.

"Shit!" Roger's profanity brought Maureen out of the daze she'd entered.

"Nice to see you too, Roger. Maureen." Benny! Maureen blinked several times to ensure she was really seeing him. Yes, he was really there. But why? Maureen stared hard at Benny for a minute, then over at Joanne, who stared back at her unapologetically.

"Is this guy bothering you, Joanne?" Roger asked as he neared Benny with clinched fists. "'Cause I can take care of him if he is."

Joanne jumped between the men, though Benny showed no sign of aggressiveness toward Roger, and put a hand on each of their chests. Benny lowered his head and smiled, in spite of himself, as he felt Joanne's fingertips brush his chest. "No! No, Roger. Everything's fine. I invited Benny over. It's okay," Joanne assured the ex-rock star.

Maureen shook her head in confusion. She didn't understand. Was this Joanne's way of getting back at her? She couldn't believe Joanne's temerity! Maureen backed away from the group, trying frantically to make heads or tails of the situation. Joanne offered no explanation, though Benny chewed nervously on his bottom lip.

"I'm just gonna…get my things." She resisted the urge to sprint to the bedroom, and heaved a sigh once she reached the doorway. She couldn't breathe out there. The tension was unbearable. She reached for the top drawer on her side of the dresser. Empty. She quickly moved to the closet and found her hanging clothes gone as well. "Damn it."

She sat on the corner of the bed, unwilling to ask Joanne for help. She'd rather go back to the loft empty-handed than to ask Ms. Perfect for help. She sniffed as she brushed away a hot tear, and then ran her fingers through her dark, unruly locks. This was supposed to be so easy. She had planned to simply to grab her stuff and leave. Instead she'd walked into an extremely uncomfortable situation at her ex's apartment.

"Maureen?"

Her breath caught in her throat as Joanne entered the doorway of the bedroom. "Hi." Maureen forced a smile then stared into her lap, praying Joanne would go away.

"I thought I'd help you with your things. Are you okay?"

"Fine," she responded shortly. "Just a little frustrated. I – I can't find my stuff."

"I bagged it up for you. It's in the hall closet."

"Oh." She stood and crossed to exit, but was unsuccessful in her attempt to slither between the lawyer and the doorframe. "Excuse me."

"You're sure you're all right?" Joanne questioned, her eyes wide and sincere.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just need to get my stuff and get back to the loft. Mark's kind of…waiting for me." That was a lie. Mark wasn't waiting for her. Mark didn't want her anymore. She glanced down at the floor, then back at Joanne, whose face appeared stoic and uncaring. Except for her eyes. Joanne could never conceal her emotions; they always shone through her eyes.

"So you and Mark are back together, then?" Joanne still blocked the doorway, though her defenses were slowly slipping.

"Yeah. I mean, kind of. I mean, we're in the process of getting back together. Things are great between us." More lies.

"That's – that's good." Joanne gave her a forced smile and awkwardly shifted her weight out of the doorway. Maureen took the opportunity to slide by her and retrieve her belongings from the hall closet without another comment from the lawyer.

"Where's Roger?" she asked as she dragged the heavy garbage bags down the hallway and found Benny sitting silently on the leather sofa.

"He's, uh, out in the hall," Benny replied as he rose to help her. Maureen shook him off before he could even offer. "Said he didn't care for the company here."

"Yeah, I couldn't agree more." She dragged the bags out of the apartment without another word to either of them, and shut the apartment door forcefully behind her.

* * *

Mark shuffled into the kitchen once he realized that the loft was empty. He'd turned into a bit of a hermit; he knew that. He also knew that he wanted to circumvent a confrontation with Maureen if it could possibly be avoided. She had been obviously unhappy with his dry response to her inquiries as to his feelings about her. He cringed as he replayed the scene in his head, and immediately felt like an ass for the way he'd acted. He loved her immensely, and he himself couldn't believe he'd shut her down so quickly. He made himself a cup of warm tea and gazed outside as he drank it, afraid to imagine Maureen's wrath when she arrived back at the loft.

A loud banging on the metal door startled him. He crossed the loft and opened it hesitantly. Just as he feared, Maureen had returned.

"Hi guys." Mark greeted Maureen and Roger as warmly as he could. He watched as they dragged two enormous garbage bags into the loft, both of them breathing heavily as they entered.

"You owe me big," Roger grunted. He maneuvered his bag into the sitting area and hurried to his bedroom where, Mark assumed, Mimi was waiting for him.

Mark stepped forward and took Maureen's bag from her abruptly. "Let me get that for you."

"Thanks. Just leave it right here. I think I'm going to be staying in Roger's room for a while, but right now, I'm gonna leave Roger _alone_." She turned her back to him, and Mark looked after her longingly. Maureen tore open the bags and began spreading clothing over every piece of furniture in the loft, as if she had just gotten a whole new wardrobe.

"My leather jacket! I've missed this jacket!" she exclaimed like a child who'd found a long-lost friend. "Oh, it's so great to have my own clothes back. I was tired of dressing like Mimi." She chuckled at her own joke and then looked back at Mark who smiled at her anxiously.

"Maureen?"

"Yeah?"

"I – I…"

"You don't have to say anything, Mark. It's okay. Let's not allow it to ruin our friendship. I'm fine with it. Really." She turned back to the sacks of clothing.

"No. I …" He shoved his hands into his pockets nervously. Why couldn't he just spit it out?

"No, don't worry about it. I understand completely."

"I lied!" he admitted finally, his voice almost at a shout.

She abruptly turned to face him. "About what?"

"When I told you I didn't love you. I lied."

"Marky…" Her eyes were wide, her face flushed.

"I do. Love you. I never stopped loving you, actually. Not for a second." He braced himself on the kitchen counter; surprised that he'd blurted it out, just like that. After a few seconds of silence from Maureen, he attempted to explain himself: "I just…I didn't want to get hurt again, you know? I guess it's true what Roger says; I detach from my emotions. I hide from what I feel. But the truth, Maureen is…I'm in love with you. I love you as much now as I did when we were first together. So if you can find it in your heart to forgive what I said earlier…"

"Come here." Her voice was quiet but firm.

"What?" Mark couldn't discern the look on her face.

"Come here," Maureen said again.

He crossed the loft and approached her cautiously, trying not to gawk at how gorgeous she was. He planted his feet prepared for the worst, remembering the famous line: "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned." They stood, face to face, their chests almost touching, for what seemed like decades. Once he'd tired of waiting for her response, Mark endeavored again to apologize for the way he acted. Instead, he felt a rush of heat as Maureen's lips touched his. He returned the kiss wholeheartedly, placing his hands on her tiny waist and closing his eyes, savoring the feeling of having her close to him. He felt her tongue part his lips, her fingertips stroking the hair at the nape of his neck. He pulled her even closer to him. The woman was incredible.

He released his lock on her lips long enough to graze her cheek, her chin, and finally her neck. Maureen giggled softly, and then moaned a little. Mark knew he'd found the right spot. He swathed her neck with tender kisses, lusting after her more with each moan and gasp he heard. Then, all at once, he returned to her lips; he kissed her with more heat, more passion than he'd felt in a long time. She returned his kisses, lightly touching his chest, his shoulders, his face with her slender fingers.

"Make love to me, Mark…please." Her voice was breathless and raspy. He found it incredibly sexy. He tenderly moved her toward the couch, impatient to feel her bare skin against his again. Blissfully unconcerned about who might see or hear, they lay there, among her scattered clothing, and made a new memory together.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

"How'd it go with Roger?" Joanne asked once Maureen and Roger had made their exit.

"Not great. I didn't mention the loft," Benny admitted.

"When are you going to tell them?"

"I don't know. Soon." He collected his jacket from the sofa and started toward the door.

"Listen, Benny, about earlier…"

"Don't worry about it."

"It was the wine, I guess. Call it a temporary moment of insanity." She smiled at him nervously.

Benny flashed a brilliantly white smile. "All's forgiven."

"I mean I – I could never date you. You're a man!" She laughed more heartily now.

"And _I _could never date _you._ You're a _lawyer_!" He opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. "Goodnight, Joanne. Thank you for a very interesting evening."

* * *

Mark smiled as he watched Maureen sleep, draped across his lap on the sofa in the common room. She looked so angelic when she was asleep, he just couldn't find it in his heart to disturb her. He pulled a cover over her underwear-clad body and played with a chestnut curl contentedly until the heavy door to the loft slid open, revealing a jovial-looking Collins.

Collins' expression changed when he spotted them both half-naked and sprawled on the couch. "Oh, man! I did _not_ need to see that!" he exclaimed with a wry smile. "But I guess congratulations are in order, man. You got what you wanted."

"It just kind of…happened," Mark admitted. "I'm not really sure what it means for us…"

"Do me a favor, Mark. Don't try so hard to analyze this one. It's a good thing; enjoy it! Be happy!" Collins smacked Mark's shoulder lightly with the back of his hand and moved toward the kitchen to find some food.

"So where've you been all day?" Mark inquired, speaking softly so as not to disturb Maureen.

"_I_ got a job!" Collins boasted. He tossed a handful of dry Cap'n Crunch into his mouth and crunched loudly.

"That's great! Congratulations!" Mark exclaimed and summoned his friend back over to the couch. Collins moved back to the living area, carrying the cereal box with him.

"Yeah, it's actually with Life Support. Paul approached me about doing some counseling as well as an AIDS education class. It doesn't pay much, but it's a step in the right direction." Collins beamed proudly. "Besides, I think it would make Angel proud."

"You know, I think you're right," Mark agreed.

"So after talking to Paul about the job I took myself out for a drink to celebrate."

"Aw, Collins, you went out alone? You should've called me!" Mark said, feeling suddenly guilty for the lack of attention he'd given Collins as of late.

"Eh, it's no big deal," Collins assured him. "Besides, looks like you were a little busy _here_." He nudged Mark a bit and smiled heartily. Mark was glad to see Collins smiling. He knew he'd never be the same old Collins he used to be; none of them would ever be the same again, but Mark sincerely hoped that Collins would find a way to be happy, a way to become himself again.

* * *

Alphabet City was unusually quiet as Benny approached the building in which he used to live. He hated to admit it, but he missed the way things used to be. Living with Mark, Roger and Collins (and later on, Maureen) was one of the best memories he had. He had clung to memories of those days like a security blanket, recalling what used to be when times got tough and he needed to escape. This was going to be extremely uncomfortable, and thoughts of the old days weren't going to help him anymore.

He took the steps to the loft two at a time, feigning confidence as he banged loudly on the loft door with his fist. The loft door slid open a fraction of an inch; Benny soon heard the words "Oh, shit," muttered from the other side, but slid the door wider anyway and stepped inside, finding himself face-to-face with Collins.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Collins asked, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he spoke.

"I…came to talk to you. All of you, actually." His eyes happened upon Mark and Maureen on the couch; Mark was shirtless (and pale, as ever) and Maureen was asleep in his lap, her hair sprawled over Mark's boxer shorts and stomach. "Damn, Mark!" Benny held a hand up to shield his eyes, as if blinded by the exhibition.

"Ha-ha, very funny," Mark replied, apparently oblivious to what anyone else thought. He looked proud that he'd screwed Maureen, as if it was some big accomplishment.

"Anyway, I wanted to talk to you guys about the loft," Benny began after a deep breath.

"What? You're reconsidering your generous offer to let us live here rent-free?" Mark asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Actually my father-in…_ex_ father-in-law has reconsidered."

"Uh-oh, trouble in paradise?" Collins asked.

"Allison and I made the mutual decision to divorce…amicably." Benny said very matter-of-factly.

"Admit it, boy, she got pissed when she found out about Mimi." Collins was grinning slyly; Benny couldn't help but like him.

"_Anyway_," Benny continued, "he's threatening to throw you guys out if you can't come up with rent. I thought I should…let you know."

"Wait a minute," Mark said. "How long do we have? To pay the rent?"

"He's already taken back all the property I handled," Benny replied. "Rent will be due again by the first of next month."

"Shit," Mark hissed, "what are going to do?" He rested his head on the back of the couch, trying frantically to come up with something.

"Hey, calm down man," Collins advised. "I've got an idea."


End file.
